Let Me In
by firstadream
Summary: Outside, cops and clerks moved about their days. She felt far away from that world. It was just her and him and he knew her and when he held her at night, she didn't feel lonely anymore. She let out a long breath. "I'm pregnant," she whispered.
1. Positive

_I know, I know. Caskett baby fics are a dime a dozen. But I couldn't help myself. I find the idea of Castle and Beckett as parents endlessly intriguing. I also wanted to try an angsty version of this story. I went the fluff route with a similar Bones fic I'm working on and wanted to try something new(ish)! _

_So this is pretty self-explanatory. It starts out with some shameless smut then dives right into the angst. I hope you enjoy. Reviews are much appreciated. _

—

Her hands were gripping the lapels of his coat, dragging him inside, before he could even step through the doorway. Within seconds, she was backing him up against the door, her hands insistent on the buttons of his shirt. It took him a second to catch up to her feverish movements as she hastily thrust the shirt off his shoulders, her mouth falling to the smooth planes of his chest, licking, sucking, biting in all the ways that made him come undone.

He groaned, his hands automatically reaching out to encircle her waist and draw her close. "Kate…" he breathed, a question in his voice that she had no intention of answering.

"No talking," she ordered.

She held his eye for a split second, daring him to argue with her, but he didn't. Instead, he spun her in his arms and pressed her against the door. He swept his hand under her thigh and hitched her up. She complied instantly—long, slender legs locking around his waist. She sighed at the pressure of his body against hers, the sweep of his nimble fingers up the front of her blouse, undoing each button with a quick flick of the wrist.

Her shirt fluttered forgotten to the hardwood floor and her bra joined it moments later. His mouth was on her immediately, sucking one nipple into his warm mouth while his fingers toyed with the other, pinching just hard enough to make her gasp and writhe against him.

"Castle…" she sighed, a desperate edge to her voice that gave him pause.

He glanced up at her and she whimpered her discontent. His hands were suddenly gentle on her waist. He ran his hands up her sides, his thumbs brushing the edge of her breasts in a whisper-soft caress that made her shiver.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

He was genuinely concerned. She hated it. "I'm fine," she said, squirming under the directness of his stare.

"Kate…"

"I'm _fine_," she repeated, her voice harder now.

A flash of hurt settled across his features. She knew he didn't believe her, but she didn't really care because he'd returned his lips to the flushed skin of her chest. He was not as aggressive as before. His touch had softened, his fingers running reverently over every inch of bare skin he could find. She knew she should be annoyed, but found she wasn't. She realized that a part of her had needed this—this gentleness, _his _gentleness. It may have been desperation that had made her call, but it was loneliness—an unspeakable desire for comfort—that let him continue now.

His hand migrated from her breast to the waistband of her yoga pants and slipped inside. _Oh, yes, _she thought deliriously. _I definitely needed this. _

"God, you're so wet," he groaned, one finger slipping between her folds.

She could only moan her approval as he swiped the pad of his thumb over her clit. She shook slightly in his arms and squirmed against his hand. "Castle, I need…"

"More," he finished. He pressed his lips to her neck and whispered, "I know."

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, depositing her on the bed before stepping back to rid himself of his remaining clothes. She curled into him as he lay down, draping her leg across his hips. He tilted his face down and found her lips again, hands trailing across the planes of her back and up into her hair.

They kissed for a long time, tongues sliding together sensually, breath mingling in the darkness. After a while, she began to grow restless in his arms. She shifted against, rubbing against his thigh in an attempt to ease the ache flaring inside her. He flipped them over, answering her unspoken plea for more, and she immediately spread her legs to accommodate him, cradled against her hips.

He gazed down at her in the dim light, watching the way the shadows played across her beautiful face. "You going to tell me what's wrong?" he murmured.

She stilled beneath him, her eyes flashing with uncertainty. And then it was gone and she was pushing him back against the bed, pinning his body to the mattress. "Not a chance," she muttered and all the softness was gone.

She pressed her lips to his—hard—and shifted down his body and suddenly he was inside of her, groaning at the feel of her all around him. "God, Kate," he moaned as she began to rock against him, back and forth, back and forth, slow and controlled and insistent.

He rested his hands on her hips, but didn't guide her movements. He waited as she shifted slightly, changing angles until she found the one that hit _that _spot perfectly. When she found it, she moaned, her eyes sliding shut. The movements of her body picked up speed and he could already feel her tightening around him.

He reached between them and found her clit, pressing in just the right way. She cried his name when she came, collapsing against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

She was pliant in his arms as he flipped them over and pressed into her again, thrusting once, twice before coming as well. He fell back against the mattress and drew her into his body, loving the way she curled into him, her head pillowed on his chest, her hair tickling his chin.

He wanted to ask her what was going on. Ask her about that faraway look in her eye, the raw desperation, the staggering loneliness. But he knew she was falling asleep in his arms and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away, so he simply rested his cheek against her hair and followed her into sleep.

When he woke up, she was gone.

—

Castle strode into the precinct, customary matching coffee cups in hand. He made his way towards Beckett's desk and frowned when he found it empty. He took his usual seat beside her desk and waited for her to appear. A few minutes later, he turned at the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floor and watched her stride into the bullpen.

"Hey," he said softly, smiling up at her as she moved past him and took her seat.

"Hey, Castle," she murmured. Her normally brisk, commanding tone was uncharacteristically soft and subdued.

He frowned. "You okay?" he asked, remembering last night and the emptiness of waking up alone.

"Yeah," she muttered, not meeting his eye. She swept her hair behind her ear and pulled her chair closer to her desk, reaching out to shuffle the already perfectly organized papers on her desk.

He leaned a little closer, glancing across the room to make sure no one was within earshot. "You were…gone this morning," he said softly.

"Yeah, well, I had a lot of work to do."

He nodded. "I was going to make you breakfast," he said, half-smiling, his tone hesitantly hopeful. "Pancakes," he added. "With blueberries, the way you like it."

She nodded, visibly tense beside him. "I'm sorry," she told him. Her voice was even and controlled, but she seemed strangely fragile, like a sand sculpture that would crumble the minute he touched her. "Maybe we could go to lunch later."

He was surprised at the invitation, but worked to control his expression. "Yeah, definitely," he said coolly. "Remy's?"

The suggestion earned him a fleeting smile and he felt triumphant. "Sure."

—

Castle glanced across the booth at his unusually quiet partner. He took a sip of his coffee, watching as her eyes lifted from the untouched hamburger in front of her to the window. She had been acting strange all day. Silent, detached, unwilling to engage in their usual banter. Not to mention the fact that her normally vibrant face was pale and drawn. Even her eyes seemed sadder somehow.

"Something's wrong," he said. He didn't phrase it as a question this time and he was too worried to dance around the issue anymore.

Her eyes snapped from the window to his face. She blinked a couple of times, frowning, as if she'd forgotten he was there. "What?"

"You're not okay," he said gently, leaning across the table towards her.

She smiled slightly and held his gaze for an instant, before bowing her head towards the table. Her hair fell in a gentle curtain around her face. "I've been missing my mom a lot today," she admitted softly.

He nodded. "I'm sorry," he murmured automatically.

She lifted her head and looked at him, then back at the window. "Sometimes I really wish I could talk to her."

"Well," he said, unconsciously shifting forward in his seat. "Is there anything I can help with?"

She smiled that sad, half-smile again and shook her head. "Not this time."

The cryptic reply gave him pause, but before he could respond she was standing up and reaching for her jacket. "I should go, Castle," she said.

"Wait," he said. "You're not going to finish your food? Wasting a Remy's burger is like throwing away gold! It's practically sacrilegious."

She chuckled. "Just not very hungry today," she said, shrugging into her coat, reaching up to sweep her hair from the collar. "Thanks for lunch."

"Sure," he mumbled automatically.

She gave a slight nod and turned away, hoping he would stay put and not follow her. She was just pushing open the door when she heard his voice behind her. "Beckett!" he called.

She continued outside, but then stopped despite herself, pausing on the fringe of the midday rush. He appeared at her side a moment later. She didn't look at him. Kept her eyes trained on the crowd of people streaming past.

"I have to get back to work," she told him when he didn't say anything.

She could feel his eyes on her face, studying her profile. "Can I walk you back?" he asked.

She turned towards him. "I thought you had an appointment with your publisher," she said.

He shrugged and smiled his goofy, endearing smile. "You should know by now, Detective—I _always _have time for you."

She smiled despite herself. Rolled her eyes for good measure. He offered her his arm and she hesitated for only a split second before looping her arm through his, fingers curling around his bicep. "Thanks, Castle," she told him sincerely as they joined the throng of tourists and workers.

"No problem," he said easily. "And if you ever need to talk…" He glanced at her, his eyes warm. "Well, I'm here."

She nodded. Smiled. "I know."

—

When he strolled into the precinct later that evening, she was on the phone. She glanced up and caught his eye as he approached, but didn't smile. He saw something flicker across her face—something sad, resigned almost, but it was gone before he could analyze it further.

"Alright, yes," she was saying as he neared the desk. "Thank you for calling."

He sat down beside her and she returned the phone to its cradle. She folded her hands in front of her. "Can we talk?" she asked without looking at him.

He nodded. "Yeah, of course."

She glanced at him, then around at the swarming bullpen. "Not here," she murmured.

She stood from her desk and led the way into the break room. She closed the door behind them and made her way over to the coffee maker. He noticed the way her hand trembled slightly as she poured herself a mug.

"What's going on?" he asked.

She wrapped her hands around the steaming mug, but didn't take a sip. She seemed utterly distracted. She lifted her eyes to his face and he could see that she was warring with something. "I have to tell you something," she told him.

He nodded. "Alright."

She dropped her eyes to the floor. "I, um…I'm…"

He frowned and stepped towards her. "Kate," he breathed.

She shook her head slightly and he heard a slight hitch in her breathing. He reached out and took the still-untouched coffee from her unsteady hands, before wrapping his fingers around her wrist and drawing her hand between his own.

She lifted her gaze to meet his and he felt his chest tighten at the pain in her face, the same pain he'd seen stirring in her eyes the night before. "You can tell me anything," he assured her gently.

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. Soft and husky and warm. Unbidden images suddenly swarmed behind her eyes. Images from nights past—so many that she'd lost count now. His hands, trailing across her body. His lips, pressed to the angle of her collar bone, the hollow of her throat. His voice—that _voice—_whispering in her ear.

_You're beautiful_, he'd told her, his body a warm and welcome weight over hers.

It had been a Wednesday. Her mother's birthday, but she hadn't told him that. She didn't want pity. She just _wanted. _She was sad and lonely and maybe a little drunk and he hadn't asked any questions when she showed up at his door. She remembered the knowing look he'd had in his eye as he drew her into his apartment and into his arms. He didn't make her ask.

She was naked within seconds, coming in his arms only minutes later, her shuddered moan echoing in the quiet apartment. He had been gentle with her—more gentle than she'd expected. He touched her in all the right ways. Kissed her when she needed it. Held her close when it was all over.

He stared into her eyes like he was studying something hidden and dark, something that she'd buried ten years ago, something that she wasn't sure she wanted him to see. But he knew her. He knew her better than any other friend she'd ever had and in those soft, still moments, wrapped up in sheets that smelled like him, she didn't mind showing him this last part of herself. The part of her that still missed her mother so much that she could barely breathe. The part of her that still fell apart sometimes, when it was dark and quiet and she'd had a hard week.

She could be strong all the other days of the year. That night, she'd needed him and he'd been there for her. Then night turned to morning and another night and she'd gotten addicted to him and the way he touched her and held her. The way he knew her secrets.

They didn't talk about it. At work, they were partners—professionals, colleagues, friends. At home, in her bedroom or his, they were more. She lived in two worlds: one where she barely ever touched him and one where she _had _him, all of him. It was easier that way. She was scared that if she let the lines blur, she'd be swallowed hole by this staggering _thing _that was them. She wasn't ready yet, because he was still Richard Castle, playboy writer extraordinaire and every time she thought about letting him all the way in, she thought of how it had felt to watch him walk away, arm wrapped around the waist of another woman.

But this…

She couldn't hide from this. It was a bridge between those two worlds whether she liked it or not.

She kept her eyes closed and focused on the pressure of his hands, wrapped around hers. Outside, cops and clerks moved about their days. She felt far away from that world. It was just her and him and he _knew _her and when he held her at night, she didn't feel lonely anymore.

She let out a long breath. "I'm pregnant," she whispered.

The words were loud. They filled the space between them, drowning out the hum of the coffee maker and tick of the clock on the wall.

He was quiet for a long time. She was scared to open her eyes. "Kate," he said gently, beckoning.

She let out a long breath and opened her eyes. He was happy, she realized almost instantly. The corners of his lips curved up slightly, eyes sparkling with something that looked like awe. It was the look he got when he talked about Alexis, the look he got when she rolled her eyes at him. It made her head swim. She suddenly felt very claustrophobic.

"Are you…are you sure?" he asked, taking a careful step towards her.

"Yeah," she breathed dazedly. "That was the, um…That was the doctor, before…on the phone…"

His smile grew and she found herself frowning and pulling away. "I-I have to go," she stumbled, drawing her hand from his grasp and turning away towards the door.

"Wait, Beckett—"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. The smile was gone, replaced by a confused frown. "I'm sorry," she told him, before disappearing around the corner.

—

Beckett was nursing a cup of tea in a corner booth when Lanie walked into the diner and slid in across from her. "I had to leave my bed and the company of a gorgeous, naked man to come here," she said. "So this better be damned good."

Beckett smiled sadly into the contents of her ceramic mug. "I'm pregnant," she said softly. She glanced up at her friend. "Castle's the father and I…I don't know what to do."

"Oh, honey," Lanie murmured sympathetically. "Are you going to keep it?"

Beckett nodded slowly. "I think so. I'm just…confused."

"About what?"

"I'm scared, Lanie, and I don't even know what I'm scared of. Castle's a good guy and a great father and yet…" She trailed off and glanced out the window at the city, glowing in the darkness. "It's just _so _much. The way he looks at me sometimes…" She shook her head. "I don't know."

Lanie smiled knowingly as she watched her friend. "That boy is _loves_ you," she said softly.

Beckett snapped her head up, looking startled and a little alarmed. "No, he doesn't."

"Uh, yes he does," Lanie insisted. "And you should let him."

"When did I ever say…"

"Girl, I know the way you are. You push people away the minute they start getting close. And you're freaked out, because Castle's gotten closer than anyone else before him."

Beckett narrowed her eyes at her friend. "I hate it when you do that."

"What? State the obvious?"

Beckett shot her a glare. "Shut up."

"Have you told him?"

She nodded, growing somber again. "Yeah. He was happy."

"Of course he was," Lanie said like any other option was ludicrous.

"Lanie…I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"You're ready to be a mother," Lanie assured her, a note of certainty in her voice that quieted some of Beckett's lingering insecurities. "And the other stuff will come in time."

"You think?"

"Definitely," she said. "And if there's one thing I know, it's that he will be there when you're ready to give into him."

—

It was late when he heard the doorbell ring. Alexis had gone to bed an hour ago and Martha was out late at a party. Castle moved his computer from his lap to the coffee table and stood to answer the door.

"Beckett," he greeted her, smiling softly. She smiled back, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, thanks," she mumbled, moving past him and into the living room.

"Have a seat," he offered, motioning towards the couch. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Just…water," she told him.

He returned a few moments later, two glasses in hand. He handed her one then took a seat beside her, leaning back against the cushions. She sipped at her drink for a while, before resting it on the table and turning towards him. She folded her hands in her lap. "I don't really know what to say," she admitted, her voice soft and low. "I wanted to apologize for…leaving earlier. I just—"

"You got scared," he supplied, his tone knowing and gentle.

She lifted her eyes to his face and nodded. _He knew her._ "Yeah," she said. She shrugged and let out a soft, humorless laugh. "I'm scared. I'm scared of…this," she breathed not knowing exactly what _this _even meant. She held his eye bravely, wishing he would come closer and stay away all at once.

"Are you…are you going to have the baby?" he asked her uncertainly.

She didn't answer him for a while. Her gaze trailed away from his face, growing distant and unfocused as some memory pulled her in. "I told you that I missed my mom," she began softly. "And I really do. Especially today. When I found out this morning…" She trailed off and shook her head, struggling around the words.

"I got pregnant my freshman year in college," she said. Her voice was stronger now—more sure as she latched on to the story. "It was some guy I barely knew. I knew he'd never be a good father. I went home for the weekend and told my mom. She was so sweet to me. So patient. She held me while I cried. Lay in bed with me and helped me work through it. I eventually decided to get an abortion. I knew I wasn't ready to be a mom. There was so much more I wanted to do."

She paused then and the room fell into silence. Castle sat across the couch from her and watched her face. Studied the emotions as they played out, one by one. Grief, longing, regret. When she started talking again, her voice was softer, more subdued. "She came with me to the clinic. Held my hand the whole way through. I remember walking out into the sunshine and feeling this grief, but at the same time knowing I'd chosen right. We went for a walk and sat on a bench in a park. She told me that someday I would get pregnant and I would be ready to be a mother and when that day came…"

She trailed off, her throat suddenly tight. "We went to this little shop and she bought a onesie that said 'I Love My Grandma'. She told me she'd keep it safe until I needed it. And it…it gave me hope." She paused and he watched, his throat tight, as a tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. Her grief, in his eyes, suddenly had a whole new dimension to it.

"I'm ready to be a mother," she told him quietly, lifting her eyes back to his face. "I _want _to be a mother. I just…I thought it would be different."

"Different?" he prompted. He wanted so badly to move closer, but he didn't want to spook her.

"I mean…" She glanced at him, suddenly unsure. "I'm not really sure what we're doing here Castle. And I guess I just thought I'd be married or at least dating. I didn't think it would be an…_accident._ I didn't think I'd be alone."

This time, he couldn't help himself. He slid towards her on the couch and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he murmured gently. "You're not alone, okay? I'm here. I promise."

For some reason, his kindness made her tears fall harder. "Thanks, Castle," she breathed.

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into the side of his body. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting his warmth and his smell—so familiar and comforting—wash over her.

"You do realize," he told her, "that you're _never _getting rid of me now."

She laughed despite herself and reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "God, you're right," she grumbled good-naturedly.

He grinned, but before he could come up with a retort, they were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Castle glanced up to see his mother sweep into the room with a grin and a flourish. "Hello, darling," she called, then paused when she spotted Beckett. "Oh, I hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, it's fine," Beckett said quickly, standing up from the couch. "I…I should be going anyway."

Martha glanced at her son and then at the detective who had been cuddled into his side a moment before. Her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, her face tired. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

Beckett nodded. "Yeah, we were just…" She trailed off and glanced back at Castle who was watching her carefully. "I'll see you tomorrow, Castle."

She cast a quick smile to Martha and made her way towards the door, slipping away before Castle had a chance to call her back.

"What was that all about?" his mother questioned, coming to sit beside him on the couch.

He shook his head slightly, eyes still trained to the door. "It was, um…" He glanced at her. "It was nothing."

"You know you're a terrible liar," she said.

He nodded, looking slightly sheepish. "Yeah, I know."

She was quiet for a minute, her gaze steady and knowing on his face. "You'll tell me when you can?"

He nodded, grateful that she wasn't pushing it. "I always do."

—

_The first chapter. Phew. I can't even tell you how long I've been messing with this. I'm new at writing Castle fics and I wanted to get the characters as accurate as possible. I hope I succeeded, but please tell me if I didn't! _


	2. Overwhelmed

_Another chapter. I am actually super-impressed with myself for getting this up so quickly. I technically should be writing a thirty-page paper right now, but whatever. This is _way _more fun to write. So without further ado… Castle and Beckett baby drama!_

—

She got up early. She couldn't sleep anyway, but as soon as she got into her car and headed towards the precinct, she struggled to contain a yawn. Out of habit, she pulled up next to a Starbucks, then realized halfway through the door that she couldn't have caffeine. The thought made her cranky and even more tired.

She entered the bullpen scowling, the beginnings of a caffeine headache already throbbing at the back of her head. She paused by the break room door and glanced longingly at the coffee maker, before turning and heading dutifully toward her desk. That was when she saw it: the gift bag resting beside her stapler. Frowning slightly with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, she picked it up and reached inside. Her fingers met fabric. She pulled the item out and stared at it for a long time.

Her throat felt suddenly tight. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. The onesie was small in her hands, the color of the sky and impossibly soft. Four words were printed across the front in delicate, slanting letters: _I Love My Mommy. _

She studied the lettering, remembering that day with her mother in the park, imagining the life that stretched ahead of her, filled with endless possibilities. She smiled softly, but it fell away quickly. The weight of her exhaustion descended like a dark cloud on her shoulders. So much was changing. Her head throbbed. She wanted coffee.

She missed her mother.

"Do you like it?"

The voice, soft and low behind her, startled her. She whirled around and was met with the smiling face of Castle. "I, um…"

She glanced at the onesie that was still clutched in her hands. Then, remembering that she was standing in the middle of the bullpen, she quickly shoved it back in the bag and threw the bag under her desk. When she turned back to him, he was frowning. "Castle, what were you thinking leaving a _onesie _on my desk?"

His frown deepened. "I was thinking that you seemed really sad last night and I wanted to cheer you up."

"Well, that's nice and all, but did you ever consider the fact that maybe I don't want the whole precinct to know that I'm _pregnant_?" She was whispering out of necessity, but the edge to her voice was not lost on him.

"I don't know, I just…"

"You what?"

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I just thought you'd…like it."

She frowned and glanced at her feet, feeling guilty for snapping at him. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm just…" She shook her head. "I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed."

His face softened slightly. "Do you want to talk?"

"No," she said quickly. "No, I just…want to get to work."

He nodded, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes. "Right, I understand."

"Thanks for the gift," she said awkwardly, not quite meeting his eye. "It was really…sweet."

He nodded again and flashed her a thin smile. "Yeah, of course. Anytime."

He turned and headed toward the break room and she had the sudden urge to call him back and apologize for…_something_. But instead, she simply turned back to her desk and got to work.

—

"Where's Castle?"

Beckett glanced up at Esposito and shrugged. "Don't know," she said, casting a quick glance around the room as if she hadn't been acutely aware of his absence since their conversation that morning. "Maybe he went home."

"Why would he do that?" he asked conversationally, leaning back against her desk.

She shot him a scowl. "I don't know, Esposito, it's not like I'm his _mother_."

He gave her a knowing look. "Hey, I was just making conversation."

She was nonplussed. "Uh-huh, sure you were. Why don't you head back to your desk and actually get some work done instead of worrying about whether or not your _girlfriend _has gone AWOL."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. She glanced up at him and raised her eyebrows expectantly. "What?" she practically growled.

He grinned. "Bad day?"

She frowned. "I have a…headache."

"Hmm," he hummed sympathetically. "Sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"Want some coffee?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

"You sure?"

She glared at him. "Esposito."

"Fine, I'm going."

She sighed and turned back to her paperwork while he wandered back over towards his desk where Ryan was waiting. "Somebody's cranky today," he remarked.

Esposito shrugged. "Says she has a headache, but I think it has more to do with a certain writer and his lack of presence in the precinct this morning."

Ryan nodded. "I heard they had a fight this morning."

Esposito raised his eyebrows, before casting a glance over at his boss, who was now staring off into the distance, her eyes tired, her gaze thoughtful. "What were they fighting about?"

Ryan shrugged. "Don't know. It was pretty early. Not too many people were here."

"Well, I hope he comes back soon," Esposito remarked. "Or she'll have us filing paperwork all freaking day."

—

He reappeared around eight o'clock and took his customary seat beside her desk. She gave him a sidelong glance, waiting for some sort of explanation, but it never came. Finally, she asked, as nonchalantly as she could, "Where've you been?"

He shrugged. "Around," he said vaguely.

She scowled. Her headache had progressed to an all-out, head-splitting migraine a couple hours before. "Well, you could've mentioned that 'getting coffee' actually meant disappearing for twelve hours."

"Disappearing?" he said. "I just went out!"

"We have _one _disagreement and you just run away. How am I supposed to trust you if you bail at the first sign of trouble?" She realized that she sounded petty, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She was so _frustrated _and she couldn't blame an embryo for taking up residence in her uterus or her mother for dying, but she _could _blame Castle. She could blame him and yell at him and snap, because a part of her knew that he _wouldn't_ walk out.

"You practically _attacked _me for doing something nice," he said. "I mean, I admit that it probably wasn't the best move to leave it on your desk, but all I wanted to do was cheer you up."

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She ran a hand down her face and let her heavy eyes slide closed. "You're right," she said tiredly. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, I'm just so…"

"Tired?" he supplied gently.

She looked at him and smiled a faint smile. "Yeah," she agreed. "I'm really tired."

"Well," he said, standing up and grabbing her coat. "Since the people of New York were polite enough not to murder anyone today, you, Detective Beckett, are free to go home."

She looked at her coat longingly. "You think?"

"Yes," he said. "In fact, I insist."

"Well," she murmured, standing up and letting him help her into her coat, "if you _insist._"

He smiled and offered his arm. "Oh, I do."

She found herself smiling back as she looped her arm through his and let him lead the way to the elevator. They were just stepping on, when Esposito called out to them. "Yo, wait up," he called, jogging over before the doors could slide shut.

Castle glanced at Beckett. Her eyes were glassy with exhaustion, brow furrowed with what he imagined was a splitting caffeine headache. "Can this wait?" he asked Esposito hopefully.

The detective shook his head. "We got a case."

—

It was close to midnight by the time they wrapped up at the crime scene. Despite her numerous offers that he could go home, he stayed till the end, and walked with her back to her car when it was over. "Long day," he remarked.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks for staying, Castle. You didn't need to do that."

"Someone had to make sure you actually went home instead of heading straight back to the precinct to start working."

She rolled her eyes. "Believe me," she assured him. "I am definitely going home."

"You want me to drive you?" he asked and she didn't miss the flash of hope that flickered in his eyes.

"No, I'll be okay," she said.

He nodded. "Right, of course. So I guess I'll…see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Tomorrow."

—

She couldn't sleep.

Her head was pounding; her body felt physically exhausted and yet her mind refused to let her rest. She kept thinking about the onesie that was now tucked into the top drawer of her bureau. She thought of him getting up early and going from shop to shop, searching for it. She thought of him smiling when he finally found it and bringing it up to the register to pay. Maybe the cashier asked him if he was going to be a father. Maybe he grinned and nodded, that familiar look of awe flickering across his face.

She sighed to herself and glanced at her bedside clock. 1:13. She closed her eyes, then opened them. She flung the covers back and stood up, heading down into the living room. As she pulled on her shoes and coat, she listed all the reasons why it was a stupid idea to go to his apartment. She kept listing them as she walked out the door, car keys in hand. She was still listing them when she arrived at his door.

_This is a bad idea, _she told herself sternly. She lifted her hand and knocked. A few seconds passed. Then a few more. She felt like an idiot. It was one thirty in the morning and she was waking him up in the middle of the night—why? So she could tell him she couldn't sleep?

She was just turning away when the door swung open.

"Beckett?"

His voice was surprised, but not too surprised.

She turned around and smiled, then frowned, then looked at her feet. "I, um…I'm sorry it's so late…"

"It's okay that it's late," he said. "Is everything alright?"

She winced slightly, then gathered her dwindling courage and met his eye. "I can't sleep," she admitted.

He smiled. "Do you want to come in?"

She nodded quickly. "Yeah."

He stepped aside and she moved past him. He closed the door behind them, before taking her coat and hanging it up. "Alexis and I were just watching a movie," he said, coming to stand beside her. "Do you want to join us?"

"A movie?" she asked incredulously. "At one-thirty in the morning?"

"A movie _marathon_, actually," he said proudly. "She just took her last AP and we are celebrating with an all-night _Lord of the Rings _marathon."

She found herself smiling at that. "Of course you are."

"We're all set up in my office," he said. He glanced at her. He seemed suddenly uncertain. "Does that…sound okay?"

She nodded. "Sounds perfect."

She followed him into his office where Alexis was camped out on the couch under a bundle of blankets. Empty popcorn containers littered the floor along with numerous candy bar wrappers and soda cans. "Hey, Detective Beckett!" Alexis greeted her happily. She seemed unsurprised at Beckett's sudden presence in her father's office at one-thirty in the morning.

"Hey, Alexis," she returned with a smile.

Castle took a seat on one side of Alexis and Beckett took a seat on the other side. She somehow felt better having the teenager between them. Castle glanced over at her. "All set?"

Beckett tugged a blanket over her lap and nodded. "All set."

He pressed play and she leaned back against the cushions. The movie had only been playing for a few seconds when Castle spoke up, "I still can't believe you prefer _Lord of the Rings _to _Star Wars_."

Alexis groaned. "Dad, can we _please _not have this argument again?"

"I just don't understand!" he exploded and Beckett couldn't help but smile to herself. He really was like a little kid sometimes. "Tolkien basically just stole characters and settings from Old Norse Scriptures and Greek Mythology and slapped some cool names on 'em!"

"Dad, have you ever even read the Old Norse Scriptures?"

Castle was quiet for a moment. "Well, no," he admitted, but then rushed to add that he _had _read that it was true on a very reliable website.

Alexis sighed. "I am not discussing this with you anymore," she declared.

"C'mon!" he cried. "You like something that is essentially _plagiarism_. Do you know how upsetting that is for me as a writer?"

Alexis turned towards her father and leveled him with a glare. "And Star Wars isn't plagiarized?" Castle gasped in apparent shock at her accusation, but she continued, her voice collected and cool, totally unfazed. Beside her, Beckett had the fleeting, sleepy thought that she'd be good in the interrogation room. "Are you prepared to tell me that _Star Wars_ absolutely did _not _borrow from popular, archetypal motifs common to science fiction and classical mythology?"

He was silent for a beat. "Well played, daughter," Castle murmured. "Well played."

"Why, thank you," Alexis chirped, obviously pleased.

"And good use of 'archetypal'," he praised. "Very impressive verbiage if I do say so myself."

"High praise coming from such an accomplished _writer_."

"Is that sarcasm I detect in your tone?"

"Sarcasm? Me?"

As Beckett lay there, their playful bickering and the noise from the movie slowly faded into the background. She felt her eyelids grow heavy and droop. Her head lolled to the side. She was warm and comfortable and safe beneath the blankets—blankets that still retained a whiff of Castle's cologne. Even the pounding in her head had subsided somewhat. She let out a soft sigh and finally, blessedly, succumbed to sleep.

—

"Um, dad?" Alexis said.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Beckett fell asleep."

Castle leaned forward in his seat and glanced over, smiling at the image of Detective Kate Beckett, tiger in the interrogation room and badass cop to boot, curled up under his comforter. "She had a long day," he said softly.

"Should we wake her up?" Alexis asked.

He shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Let her sleep."

And so they did.

They worked their way through the trilogy along with most of the special features, finishing up just before dawn. By the time the final credits rolled, Alexis was fading fast, her head resting against his shoulder. "I'm sleepy," she mumbled. "Can't move."

Castle chuckled and scooped her into his arms, carrying her off to her bedroom. "Thanks for the movie night, dad," she mumbled as he tucked her in under the covers.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "No problem, honey," he said softly. "But _Star Wars _is still way better."

"In your dreams," she mumbled as he pulled her door shut.

Beckett was still asleep when he returned to the study. She was curled on her side, head resting on the arm of the couch, hand tucked under her cheek. He walked over and bent down, readjusting the blanket so it covered her more fully. She sighed softly in her sleep and he found himself leaning forward and brushing the hair out of her eyes. Her face was peaceful and relaxed. The furrow of pain that had been present all day was finally gone in sleep. She was so beautiful. He'd told her numerous times, but always at night—never in the daylight. He wasn't allowed to say things like that except when it was dark.

He smiled, a little sadly, to himself. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the soft skin at her temple. She barely stirred at the touch. "Goodnight, Kate," he murmured, before slipping away and pulling the door shut behind him.

—

She woke up to the clicking of a keyboard. She opened her eyes and blinked a couple of times in the bright morning light, trying to remember where she was.

"Morning!"

She glanced towards the other end of the couch. Castle was sitting beside her feet, computer resting on his lap, coffee cup in hand. "Ugh, Castle, get that stuff away from me," she grumbled, turning her face into the pillow.

"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, standing up and hurrying into the kitchen. When he returned he was coffee-less and wearing an overly apologetic, guilt-stricken expression that was almost comical. "Smell bother you?"

She shook her head. "No," she said. "Just jealous."

"Oh." He chuckled and grinned and sat back at her feet. "Did my typing wake you?"

"No, I think the sunlight took care of that," she said. "What time is it?" she asked around a yawn. She still felt sluggish and sleepy. She let her eyes drift shut again.

"Around eight thirty," he told her. "Alexis is sleeping in and my mother is working off a killer hangover.

"Long night?"

"She came home after we went to bed," he explained. He glanced over to where she was lying, still wrapped up in the blanket, eyes closed. "You can sleep a little more if you want," he offered.

"Okay," she said softly.

"Do you want me to go work in another room?"

"No," she mumbled, already half-asleep. "S'okay."

He smiled and turned back to his computer. He was glad she hadn't asked why he'd chosen to wedge himself onto the couch at her feet rather than make use of one of the numerous seating options throughout the apartment. The truth was, he just liked being near her. And in the hour or so that he'd been sitting there, he'd discovered that her presence worked wonders for his inspiration. He'd whipped through twenty pages already and was still going strong.

She slept another hour and this time, when she woke up it was to the smell of bacon and her grumbling stomach. She pushed off the blankets and stood from the couch, stretching her aching joints. Without the blankets, she found that the air was quite chilly. On her way out of the study, she grabbed a fleece that was draped over the back of a chair and slipped it on. It was about twelve sizes too big, but it did wonders for her body temperature.

He glanced up from his cooking when she emerged and smiled at her outfit. "Nice fleece," he commented, feeling an odd sense of contentment at seeing her in his clothes. It was the same feeling he got a year ago when he'd woken up and found her cooking in his kitchen.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind," she said.

"Course not," he said.

She slid onto one of the stools and watched him move around the kitchen, grabbing some eggs from the fridge and placing them on the counter. "Smells good," she murmured.

"Thought you'd be hungry," he said.

"Yeah, I am." Her mouth was practically watering in anticipation.

He turned and grabbed the coffee pot and a mug. "Coffee?" he asked, then, before she could answer, he added, "It's decaf."

"Sure," she said, accepting the mug from him. "Thanks for…remembering."

He glanced up from the stove and met her eye, his face suddenly softening. "Of course," he said and he had that _look _again. Part awe, part happiness, part…love. The look that made her head swim and her heart crash with overwhelming hope. A hope she hadn't let herself feel since that day in the park with her mother.

She smiled, a little shyly, and bit her lip. She held his gaze for a minute, before bowing her head towards the table. "I guess we haven't really gotten to…talk about everything."

"Yeah," he agreed, then waited for her to continue. He was so scared of saying the wrong thing. He felt like he was inching towards her across a sheet of thin ice. One wrong move and he'd lose his footing and crash right through.

"I, um..." she began, then faltered. "I'm not really sure what to do," she finally admitted and he could tell she was telling the truth and that she was terrified.

"Kate," he said gently. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you and I'll _always _be here for you." He paused and smiled. "I'm on your side, whatever you want to do."

She smiled, too, but then looked away again. "Are you…" She trailed off, searching for the right words. "Are you…happy about…_this_?" she asked uncertainly.

His smile grew. "I'm very happy," he assured her.

She grinned. Her throat felt tight. "Okay," she said.

—

They ate breakfast together and when they were done, he walked her to the door. She started to unzip his fleece, but he stopped her. "No, keep it," he said, reaching out to adjust the color. "It looks good on you."

"Well," she said, glancing down at the fuzzy, baggy garment. "It is very fashionable."

"I hear fleece is the knew faux-fur."

She chuckled softly and looked back up at him. "Thanks, Castle," she told him. "For everything."

He nodded and took a step towards her. She swallowed and stiffened slightly, but didn't pull away. She felt her eyes dip to his mouth. "No problem," he murmured and she watched the way his lips shaped the words, his voice husky and soft.

She leaned towards him. He rested his hands on her waist. His face was close to hers—close enough that it was blurred slightly. She lifted her hands and rested them on his chest. She felt warm. She wanted to kiss him.

"_Shit!_"

They both turned in time to see Alexis hobble down the steps, muttering to herself. When she glanced over and saw them watching, she explained, "I stubbed my toe."

Castle turned back to Beckett and found her smiling. "What? You find my daughter's pain to be amusing?"

"No, it's just…" She laughed. "I don't think I've ever heard her curse."

"Oh, she's got a filthy mouth," he said. "Especially when we're playing Uno. It's hideous the stuff that comes out of that girl's mouth."

"I wonder where she gets it from," she murmured, then grinned at his shocked face.

A moment passed and both their expressions faded into soft smiles. "I guess I should go," she said softly.

He nodded. "Okay."

He began to lean toward her and for one, heart-stopping moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he just pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'll see you later," he whispered.

She nodded. "Definitely."

Then she turned and slipped out the door and was gone.

—

_Sooo, let me know what you think! I hope the Alexis/Castle, Beckett/Esposito stuff was okay. I'm still kind of testing the waters here. Oh, and about the Star Wars vs. Lord of the Rings stuff—I have no idea what I'm talking about. Totally googled it. So if there is a die-heart fan out there that was offended by something, I apologize! _


	3. Uncertainty

_Another chapter! Yay! I decided to start up a case in this one. I never intended this to be a case-driven kind of story, so it definitely won't drag on for too many chapters. I'm just using it as a kind of emotional vehicle more than anything else. I tried my hardest with the nitty gritty, "shop talk" bits. I hope I pulled it off. As always, let me know. And, of course, enjoy!_

—

She'd known it was a child before arriving on the scene. The call had come just as she was stepping out of the shower. She was glad Castle hadn't been there. She had a damn good poker face, but she knew he would've been able to read it all over her face—how much she _hated _these cases, how much they hurt.

On the ride over, she'd carefully checked her emotions. Compartmentalize. Bury. Numb. She was good at it. It was a necessity in her profession. But for some reason, when she'd stepped under the tape and seen the little girl sprawled on the concrete, head askew, eyes wide and lifeless, something had shifted inside her.

She wasn't prepared.

She turned away—just for a second—and took a deep breath, before striding over to where Lanie was bent over the victim.

"What've we got?" she asked and was glad that her voice didn't shake.

Lanie glanced up at her and Beckett didn't miss the way her eyes flickered towards her stomach. She wanted to tell her friend that she was _fine_, to please not go there_. _She wanted to say that she could still do her job, same as last week. That she didn't need any pity. But Ryan and Esposito were standing a few feet away and she just wanted to get this over with, so she settled for a subtle look of warning.

"Lanie," she said lowly, hoping she'd get the message.

Her friend sighed, unconvinced, but turned back to the body anyway. "The victim is a pre-pubescent female. I'd put her age somewhere between eight and ten. I'd put time of death as pretty recent—no more than three or four hours based on body temp."

"Cause of death?"

"My guess would be blunt force trauma to the head," Lanie said. "I won't be able to tell whether it was accidental or intentional until I get her back to the lab, though."

Beckett scribbled down some notes. She was about to call Ryan and Esposito when she appeared at her side. "Who called it in?" she asked.

"Homeless guy," Esposito replied. "Didn't get much out of him. He kept asking where his reward money was."

"He didn't see anything?"

"Even if he did, he wouldn't exactly make a prime material witness," Ryan told her. "Guy's loony. Completely off his rocker."

"He kept thanking me for my performance in _Zoro_," Esposito added.

Beckett glanced at him, her look scrutinizing. "You don't look anything like Antonio Banderas," she decided after a moment.

"Did you hear the part where I said he was insane?" he said, a defensive edge to his voice.

"Okay, well do we have anything else to go on?" she asked. "Any way to ID her?"

"There's this." Lanie spoke up behind her. Beckett turned and took the small, silver chain that Lanie handed her. "It's a medical alert bracelet," she said. "The victim had diabetes."

"But this doesn't give us her name," Beckett pointed out. "Just her disease."

"I bet you twenty bucks I could get you a name from that bracelet."

Beckett whirled around to see Castle striding towards them. "Castle," she said, smiling slightly. "I thought you, uh…I thought you weren't coming."

"Who told you that? My mother?"

"Yeah, she answered your phone."

"She's been trying to get me to go with her to this play her friend wrote. It's title is: _The Prostitute Who Stroked My Pussy: Pet Tales for the Dark-witted._"

Beckett made a face. He sighed in agreement. "Tell me about it. I'd much rather be with you," he said, smiling softly. She tensed slightly, her eyes flickering towards Ryan and Esposito who had wandered a few steps away and were now pretending to take notes. He followed her gaze and immediately backed off. "With you…at this crime scene, that is," he added hastily. "Only…at…crime scenes." She could barely contain an eye roll at his horrible attempt at smoothness.

"So," he said cheerfully, changing the subject. "What've we a got?"

She swallowed hard and met his eye. "It's a kid," she told him. "A girl."

His eager smile vanished. "A girl?"

She nodded. "Blunt force trauma to the head."

He glanced around her to where the body lay a few yards away and then back at her face. He took in her tense jaw and furrowed brow, the way she was holding herself—arms crossed, back stiff. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, because he could see the sadness in her face.

She met his eyes for a split second, before looking away again. "Yeah, well…" She trailed off and her eyes fell to the bracelet still in her hand. "So, you really think you could get a name off this?"

He nodded, but his mood was considerably dulled. _Join the club_, she thought morosely. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer than usual. "This isn't just your run-of-the-mill, cheap metal bracelet. This is expensive. Custom made. Silver or even platinum, by the looks of it."

"A platinum medical alert bracelet?" Esposito questioned incredulously, rejoining the conversation.

Castle shrugged. "If you have the money, why not? That girl is—what? Eleven? Twelve? She probably didn't think it was cool to wear a bracelet advertising her sickness, so her mom, in an effort to ensure it would stay on her wrist, bribed her with a really nice, custom-made one."

"But how is that going to help us ID the girl?"

Castle pointed to the address printed on the inside of the band. "727 Fifth Avenue and 57th street," Beckett read aloud. "You think that's the girl's home address?"

"What?" he cried. "No!" He gave her a look. "C'mon, the corner of Fifth and 57th?" She stared at him blankly, eyebrows raised expectantly. He sighed. "It's Tiffany's! Jeez, you guys. It's only one of the most famous jewelry stores in the world!"

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't go that far," she muttered, already turning toward her car.

"Didn't you ever see _Breakfast at Tiffany's_?" he asked, trailing after her.

"Nope," she said. "I'm not really into chick flicks."

"Calling a movie starring Audrey Hepburn a chick flick is just wrong and vaguely…offensive," he told her definitively.

"You just don't want to admit you like a chick flick," she said, pausing on the driver's side.

He leveled her with a glare across the top of the car. "I am man enough to admit that I do enjoy the _occasional _romantic comedy every once in a while, but please give credit where credit is due. _Breakfast at Tiffany's _is a classic. Pure gold."

"And speaking of gold…" She shot him a cheeky smile as she slipped into the car.

He grinned back and took his place in the passenger's seat. "Well, Detective, what do you say we catch ourselves a murderer?"

"That's the plan."

"And a good one at that."

—

Beckett strode onto the first floor of the dazzling jewelry store with Castle hot on her heels and headed straight for the elevators. "Sixth floor," she told the attendant. He nodded and pressed the button.

She moved to the back of the elevator and leaned against the wall. "How'd you know customer service was on the sixth floor?" he asked as he leaned back next to her.

She glanced at him, then nodded towards a small panel pinned above the doors that listed the services offered on each floor. "Oh, right," he said softly, but she could tell he was still a little suspicious.

But before he could ask any of the questions she saw brewing in his gaze, the elevator came to a stop, the doors dinging open. She quietly thanked the attendant as she walked off, heading for the front desk. The woman sitting behind it glanced up and smiled.

She got right down to business. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD and this is Richard Castle. If you could point me to your supervisor, I have a few questions I'd like to ask."

The secretary looked vaguely startled, but simply nodded her head politely and stood from her desk, motioning for them to follow her. She led them down a hallway, pausing outside an office door. She knocked once, before turning the handle. "Mr. Caswell," she said. "This is Detective Beckett from the NYPD and Richard Castle. She'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Thank you, Stacey," he said, nodding to the young woman, before turning his attention to Beckett. "Detective Beckett," he greeted her, reaching out to shake her hand. "And Mr. Castle. Richard Caswell. Pleased to meet you." After shaking both their hands, he returned to his seat and motioned for them to sit down as well. "So," he said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

For some reason, Castle did not like him. He seemed too young to be managing one of the most well-known, high-end jewelry stores in the world. And there was just something about his face, something in the way he was looking at Beckett that irritated him. The guy was smooth. Too smooth. He had the charm of a politician and the smile of a crook.

Beside him, Beckett pulled the medical alert bracelet, now wrapped in an evidence bag, from her purse. "I need any information you might have on who purchased this bracelet," she explained.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Caswell said immediately. He reached a hand out across his desk. "May I?"

Beckett passed the bracelet to him and he immediately brought it close to his face, peering at it through the clear plastic bag. "Well, it certainly is custom-made. Tiffany's isn't normally in the business of making platinum medical alert bracelets."

He rested the bracelet on the table and returned his gaze to Beckett. "I'll have a name for you in no time. We're very careful about taking down the names, addresses and phone numbers of our clients, especially when we're dealing with expensive pieces such as this one." He flashed her a shiny, white-toothed smile. Castle wanted to punch him. "It's important to be careful in this business. I run this place under a very simple motto: avoid lawsuits."

Castle was just about to roll his eyes at his _terrible _attempt at humor, but turned in surprise when Beckett let out a soft laugh beside him. "It's funny," she said. "I have the same motto."

Mr. Caswell smiled brightly. "Great minds think alike, Detective." He stood and offered his hand. "I'll have that name for you within the hour," he promised her.

"Great," she replied. She pulled a card from her pocket and handed it to him. "Please, give me a call when you do."

"You have my word."

She nodded, smiled _again,_ and turned, leading the way from the office. Castle waited until he was sure they were out of earshot before laying into the guy. "I didn't like him," he declared.

She shot him a look over her shoulder. "What? _Why?_ He was nice. And helpful."

Castle frowned and scrunched up his nose like he smelled something that stunk. "He was…_slimy._"

"Slimy? Really, Castle?"

"Yes!" he cried. "I wasn't getting good vibes off of him. I don't trust him at all."

They reached the lobby and she paused in front of the elevators. "Castle, you're being ridiculous."

"I am not," he whined. "I really didn't like him."

She raised her eyebrows at him and took a step closer. "You know what I think?"

He mirrored her actions, leaning into her so that they were practically nose-to-nose. "Enlighten me," he invited, lips pursed in a small smile.

She grinned. "I think you're jealous."

He pulled back slightly. "Jealous? What? Why would I be— " He trailed off abruptly, frowning to himself. He thought of the way Caswell had leaned towards her, the way he'd smiled, his eyes trailing over her body, the way his voice had gone low and a little husky when he spoke to her…

His gaze snapped back to hers. His eyes were a little wide, his expression undeniably surprised. "Oh," he said softly. "I'm _jealous._"

She smirked at him triumphantly. "Alright, Castle. Now that we've settled the fact that Richard Caswell is not a horrible person, can we please go?"

He nodded. "Lead the way."

She moved ahead of him towards the elevator and was about to board when she froze suddenly. "Beckett?" he questioned, coming up behind her.

She turned towards him and he frowned at her suddenly pale face. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, moving towards her. "Are you gonna be sick?"

She nodded, grimacing slightly and hurried past him, making a beeline for the restroom. He began to follow her, then realized it was pointless and stopped halfway there. He turned back around and wandered over to the elevators. Scanned the room—the neat little row of customer services desks tucked into identical booths, the perfectly arranged vase of lilies resting on a mahogany table.

There wasn't much to do and he got bored quickly. The sixth floor was probably the driest floor in Tiffany's. No shiny jewelry and doting employees to keep him occupied. After waiting for ten minutes, he headed over to the restroom and pushed the door open just enough so he could call in. "Kate?"

He heard her groan. "What?"

"Um, I just wanted to tell you: I'm going to head down to the second floor. I'll meet you there, okay?"

"Okay," she said. She sounded utterly miserable and he suddenly felt guilty for leaving her.

"Do you want me to come in?" he asked uncertainly. "I don't think anyone else is in there…"

She didn't answer right away and for one, fleeting moment he thought she might take him up on the offer. "No, it's okay," she told him after a pause. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Alright," he agreed, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

He stepped back, letting the door fall shut and walked over to the elevators. "Second floor," he murmured to the attendant, then leaned back against the wall as they began their descent.

Moments later, he stepped off the elevator and grinned. This was where the magic happened. His eyes swept over the endless rows of cases, all filled with shining jewels, blinking in the bright light.

He'd been thinking of getting Alexis some sort of jewel for her graduation. He'd given her a very nice, silver pendant last year and he wanted to step it up a little. The year he'd graduated from high school, his mother had given him a very expensive watch which he'd promptly lost. He wasn't worried about that with Alexis. God knew she was _far _more mature than he had ever been at that age.

He wandered over to a showcase and peered inside at a small collection of emerald jewelry. Necklaces, rings, earrings. He moved along, hand trailing over the glass and stopped at the rubies. A smile passed across his face as he thought of his daughter. The rich, red color would go well with her hair. He was just about to ask the woman behind the counter to show him a pair of earrings when a flash of twinkling blue caught his eye. He moved towards it, smiling slightly as he looked down at the sapphire engagement rings.

He'd given diamonds to both of his first wives, but had always had a soft spot for the more traditional sapphire. His mind, inevitably, shifted to Beckett who still had not returned from the restroom. He'd actually thought about proposing to her before. The first time it had been a fleeting, slightly ridiculous thought. When Ryan proposed to Jenny, he'd watched the way Beckett's eyes welled with tears, the way her lips curved into the most beautiful, genuine smile. _You deserve more than a helicopter, _he'd thought quietly, smiling to himself. _You deserve everything._

The latter part of that thought had startled him a bit, but he'd brushed it off as the slightly dramatic, overly romantic writer in him. But then, when she'd told him she was pregnant, he'd thought about it again. There was an old-fashioned, traditional part of him that had felt the urge to propose the minute she'd told him she was having his child. He didn't know where it came from, but he of course ignored the impulse, knowing instinctively that she'd probably punch him out if he got down on one knee. But unlike that moment in the precinct, thinking about helicopters and hot air balloons, this time he couldn't shake the feeling.

The thing was, he wanted to _be _with her. He wanted more than stolen nights and lonely mornings. More than fleeting glances when they thought no one was looking. But he could tell she was still scared. He'd known since their second case together that she'd been burned, but he got the feeling lately that he was just now getting a glimpse of how badly her heart had been broken. How terrified she was to fully give herself to him.

There was still so much she didn't tell him. Still so much she kept to herself, carefully folded up and filed away. He wanted to know those things. So badly. He wanted to know _her. _

"Can I help you with something?"

He glanced up at the employee who had spoken. She was young. Attractive in a simple kind of way. "Yeah, um…Could I see that ring there?"

She smiled knowingly and pulled the display rack from the case, laying it out on the glass in front of him. He picked up the ring that had caught his eye and studied it in the light. "It's beautiful," he murmured.

"Shopping for someone in particular?" she asked, a friendly, conspiratorial edge to her voice that made him chuckle.

He smiled. Shrugged lightly. Handed the ring back to her. "Maybe," he said non-committally.

She took the ring back, returning it to the case. "Come back when you're sure," she offered, flashing that same knowing smile. He suddenly wondered how many rings she'd sold to nervous, bumbling men like him.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think I will."

He turned away from the sapphires and began to move back to the rubies when he heard her voice behind him. "Castle!"

He turned, smiling automatically when he spotted her. He headed over to where she was standing by the elevator. "Hey," he said softly. His smile softened slightly as he took in her weary face. "Feeling any better?"

She half nodded, half shook her head. "A little," she murmured. "It just kind of took me by surprise."

"Yeah, they really shouldn't call it morning sickness. Meredith always felt fine in the mornings, then would end up staked out in the bathroom during dinner."

"Ugh," she muttered, pursing her lips in distaste.

"What?" he asked, automatically glancing around for the nearest trash can—just in case. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she told him. "You just said 'dinner'."

He chuckled. "Sorry. I will try to refrain from all food-related topics from now on."

On the word 'food', she groaned again, holding one hand up to stop him and pressing the other one to her stomach. "Castle, I'm serious."

He sobered up immediately. Without really thinking about it, he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his palm coming to rest on her cheek. It felt warm to the touch. "You feel a little feverish," he murmured. "Do you want to go home? I'm sure Ryan and Esposito can hold down the fort for a while."

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards slightly at the show of concern. "No, I'll be fine," she assured him. "Let's head out. Maybe the fresh air will help."

He scoffed as they moved onto the elevator. "Fresh air in New York? That's pretty much an oxymoron."

She flashed him a sardonic smile. "Nothing like car exhaust and hot, putrid air pouring out of subway grates to soothe an aching stomach."

He laughed softly, catching her eye. "Ah, Detective Beckett. You slay me."

—

He waited until they were safely pulled into traffic to ask the question that had been nagging at him since the moment they'd walked into Tiffany's. "You've been to Tiffany's before, haven't you?"

She snapped her eyes from road to his face, then back at the road. "H-how did you know that?" she mumbled, obviously frazzled by the question.

"I could see it in your face," he told her honestly. "The moment we walked through those doors, you got this look on your face. It's the same look you got when you showed me your mother's murder board, or when we looked at those pictures together—the ones she took of you."

She swallowed and kept her eyes on the road. "What look is that?" she asked softly.

"Sadness, nostalgia." He paused, and glanced over, studying her profile. "Grief." He hesitated before adding, "You look like a girl who's lost her mother."

She nodded slightly, feeling vulnerable and raw. Was she really so obvious? Did she hide her pain so badly that he could read it on her face with one glance? _No, _a soft voice in her head answered. _He's just looking closer than anyone else. _

She turned her head towards the window for a brief moment, buying herself a moment to compose herself, before refocusing on the road. "I went with my dad," she said. Her voice was quiet but clear over the soft hum of the engine and the muffled noises of the city street outside. "I must've been about eight years old and it was my parent's tenth anniversary. He told me he wanted to buy her something as beautiful as her. He said he knew it was impossible, but if anybody could get close to making a piece of jewelry as perfect as my mother, it was Tiffany's."

She paused again, her hands tightening around the steering wheel, fighting against a sudden wave of grief that threatened to swallow her whole. "We stayed there for hours, perusing all the cases, trying to find the perfect gift. We finally settled on this." She reached inside the collar of her shirt and held up the necklace she wore everyday. _For the life I lost, _she'd told him years ago.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her softly. _I want to know you, _he felt like saying, but didn't.

She shrugged and glanced at him. Her eyes were shining with tears. "I'm telling you now," she said. Her voice was hushed and quavering in the small space.

He nodded and smiled a sad smile. He reached over and pried one of her hands from the steering wheel and folded it in his own. "Okay," was all he said. It was just one word, but it spoke volumes. _Okay, I accept you. Okay, I know you. It's all going to be okay._

—

_One of my reviewers on the last chapter mentioned that they're still waiting for the angst. You have to be patient with me. If any of you have read my Bones stories, you'll know angst is not my forte. Lol. But I'm trying! I have a plan for the next few chapters that should amp up the tension, so all you angst bunnies out there should be happy. But if you're a fluff fan, rest assured, there will be plenty of that, too. It's all about the balance. :) _

_So…let me know how it went! Good? Bad? I want to know!_


	4. Memories

_So this chapter sees the return of some of that smut from chapter one as well as the appearance of some previously promised angst. Enjoy!_

—

They got the call on their way back to the precinct. She was on the phone with Caswell for less than a minute—just long enough to write down the address. No extraneous flirting or laughing. Just business. Castle had to turn towards the window to hide a smile.

She was on the phone with Esposito a moment later and after a quick conversation, hung up and turned towards him.

"The apartment's downtown," she told him. "It's rented to a Mr. and Mrs. Lenox."

They arrived at the address within minutes. Beckett was quiet in the elevator. He tried not to stare, but couldn't seem to help himself. The way the emotions played out on her face was beautiful—in a heartbreaking, elegiac sort of way. He'd tried so hard to tell the story of that face and after three books, he knew he still fell short.

The elevator doors opened and she strode off ahead of him, but then paused once she reached the door. She glanced at him. He could see it in her eyes how much she didn't want to do this. How she couldn't bear the thought of bringing the news that would break these peoples' hearts.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, giving her fingers a quick, reassuring squeeze. She gave a slight nod and swallowed. Lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

A middle-aged man opened the door. His hair was sandy grey and laugh lines accentuated the corners of his mouth. Castle liked him immediately.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, smiling a confused, yet friendly smile.

"Mr. Lenox?" The man nodded. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett from the NYPD," she said softly. "This is Richard Castle. May we come in?"

The shift was instantaneous. His face darkened, his lips turning down in a deep frown. "Is this about Lily?" he asked, his voice low and uneven.

"I think it'd be best if we sat down," she murmured gently. There was sadness all over her face and he knew it wasn't an act. A part of him wished it was. He hated that she had to live through her own grief every time she told someone the daughter or mother or husband they loved was dead.

The man stepped aside and let them come in. "Have a seat," he offered. His voice was robotic, already numbed to the news he seemed to know was coming.

Beckett took a seat on a wide, red couch placed against the wall. Castle sat beside her, closer than he probably should've, but she didn't complain or move away. If anything, she leaned closer. "Is your wife here?" she asked quietly.

Mr. Lenox shook his head. "No, she…she died last year from cancer." For a moment, his face drooped in grief. Castle could see the less distinct, beginnings of frown lines appear in his brow. "Is my daughter okay?"

Castle felt her tense beside him. He glanced over and saw her jaw working, her hands clenched in her lap. "No," she told him honestly. "She isn't."

"Is she dead?" he breathed.

She didn't postpone the inevitable. "Yes," she confirmed steadily.

Mr. Lenox nodded, his lip trembling. "I, uh…I should've gone after her. I should've…" He trailed off, his voice hitching around a sob. He crumpled forward in his seat. He dropped his face into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "Oh, God," he cried, shoulders shaking with grief.

Beckett pressed her lips together and sucked in a steadying breath through her nose. She leaned forward slightly. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she murmured and then waited patiently while he composed himself.

After a few minutes of silence, punctuated only by his muffled sobs, Mr. Lenox lifted his head, wiped his eyes and turned his gaze towards the window. "She ran away," he told them. "Last night. It's been so hard for her since Margaret died. She started acting up in school, refusing to where her bracelet. She ended up in the hospital one day after eating twenty candy bars. Her blood sugar spiked. She started acting loopy and was brought to a school nurse—a new one, who didn't know about her diabetes, and Lily of course didn't tell her."

He was quiet for a beat. "That's when I brought her to Tiffany's and ordered that ridiculous, platinum bracelet." He paused. Shook his head slightly. "Maybe I was enabling her, but I just…I _needed _her to wear that bracelet. I couldn't be worrying about her…her _dying_. I already lost my wife, I couldn't lose her, too."

He turned his eyes from the window and met Beckett's gaze. "I called the police, but they said that she had to be gone for twenty four hours for it to be considered a missing person's case."

Beckett nodded sympathetically. "I know. It's a god-awful rule," she muttered. "When did she run away exactly?"

"I noticed she was gone a little after nine o'clock. I thought she'd just gone up to her room after dinner, but I guess she…" He trailed off and his eyes suddenly welled with fresh tears. "We had a fight," he admitted brokenly. "She'd skipped class to hang out with her friends and I was furious."

His gaze fell to the floor, studying the faded patterns of the carpet beneath his feet. "The last words I said to her were ones of anger."

"She knew you loved her," Castle said.

It was the first thing he'd said since they'd arrived and Mr. Lenox looked up at him in surprise. "You think?"

He nodded, wanting to offer this man some sort of peace. "I'm sure of it. She knew."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel Beckett watching him. He turned towards her and their eyes locked for a beat, before she dropped hers to the floor. "Mr. Lenox, is there anyone you can think of who might want to hurt Lily?"

The older man looked stricken. "What? No! She was a twelve-year-old girl. Everybody loved her."

"I'm sorry," Beckett told him. "I have to ask these questions."

He nodded and slumped in his chair again. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Is there anything else you can think of? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Mr. Lenox shrugged dejectedly, looking forlorn. "She was a good kid," he murmured. "I mean…maybe a little lost, but…she was a good kid."

—

They walked outside and got back in the car. She was about to put the key into the ignition when her phone beeped. She pulled it out and glanced at the new text message. "Lanie wants us down at the morgue," she said, tucking the phone back into her pocket.

He nodded. "You okay?"

She glanced at him. _No. _"Yeah, I'm fine."

He nodded resignedly. _Liar. _"Of course you are."

For some reason, his response rankled her. "What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

He shook his head. "Nothing. You're fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

"I am fine," she said firmly. _I will be, _she amended quietly in her head.

"I know."

"Sometimes I…" She paused and glanced out the window. "Sometimes I hate this job."

He nodded. Turned his gaze to meet hers. "I know." His voice was soft.

She swallowed and held his eye for a beat, before turning away and pulling the car out into traffic.

—

"Hey, Lanie," Beckett greeted her friend as they stepped into the chilly morgue. "What've you got for us?"

"You're off the case," the M.E. responded matter-of-factly.

Beckett frowned. "What? What do you mean?"

"It wasn't murder." She motioned towards the body of Lily Lenox, draped in a white cotton sheet. "It was an accident. My best guess is she tripped and hit her head. It would explain the head trauma."

"She tripped?" Beckett questioned, incredulous.

Lanie nodded and moved towards the end of the table. She lifted the sheet covering the body and pointed towards the girl's left foot. "See that? Those contusions?"

Beckett nodded and let out a disbelieving, utterly humorless laugh. "She stubbed her toe." She glanced up at her friend. "So she tripped, bumped her head and…died?" The idea seemed completely ludicrous. Too unfair to be true.

Lanie nodded, the same morose, slightly fazed expression on her face. "It caused a brain hemorrhage. A normal person with this injury might've survived, but her blood sugar had completely bottomed out. She was on the verge of a diabetic coma. She had no hope of regaining consciousness, so she just bled out."

Beckett nodded slowly. "Right, um…" She shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. "Thanks, Lanie."

The room fell into silence. Lanie moved away from the table and began to fiddle with a tray of instruments. Beckett knew that this was her cue to leave, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the girl's foot. A stubbed toe. A bump on the head. Innocuous, mundane, every-day things. How could they add up to death?

Castle took a step towards her and then another. She could feel the heat of his body at her back. He leaned in close. Rested his hands on her hips. "Ready to go?" he whispered, his voice, intimate and low, a stark contrast to the shiny metal and sanitized death that surrounded them.

She closed her eyes and fought the urge to lean back into him, to let him support her weight, if only for a moment. "Yeah," she breathed and turned towards him.

His eyes were warm and understanding and she felt the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and hide her face in his chest and cry. She didn't, though. Of course she didn't.

She brushed past him and walked outside into the fresh air, knowing even before she heard his footsteps that he would follow.

—

It was late when she returned to the morgue. She knew Lanie would be there. There was always an autopsy to do. Test results to be rushed. "Hey," she said as she pushed open the doors.

Lanie jumped slightly. "I hate it when you do that," she complained, shooting a glare at her friend.

"Sorry," Beckett murmured.

She wandered over to an empty table and hoisted herself onto it. Lanie watched as she fiddled with her watch, flipping it around and around her wrist in endless loops. She seemed distracted and a little jumpy, not quite able to sit still.

"Everything okay?" she ventured cautiously.

Beckett let out a long breath. "I'm just feeling…" She trailed off and shook her head, realizing there wasn't really a word for the tidal wave of emotions that had been flooding her body all day. "That girl," she began, her voice rough. "That girl died from a bump on the head. She stubbed her toe and died from a _bump on the head._"

"Well, technically she died from brain hemorrhaging—"

"Lanie."

"Sorry. Not the point."

"I mean—her mother died of cancer. A totally unavoidable, chance thing. She just happened to develop cancer and die and leave behind this little girl that didn't know how to exist anymore…"

"I have a feeling we've verged from the Lily Lenox story into the Katherine Beckett story."

"No. I mean…" Beckett let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, sort of, but…"

"Honey," Lanie interrupted gently. "What's wrong?"

"Isn't it a little bit…_reckless _to bring a child into this world, doing what I do?"

"Oh, Kate…"

"I don't want my kid to grow up without a mother."

"She won't."

"You can't know—"

"She won't."

"Maybe I should put in for a desk job."

Lanie gave her a look. "Don't be stupid. You love your job."

She smiled softly. "Yeah, I do. And anyway," she added with a wry smile, "Castle would kill me if I gave up catching murderers. It wouldn't be very sexy if Nikki Heat suddenly became a pencil pusher."

"Speaking of," Lanie murmured. "Have you talked to Castle about any of this?"

Beckett shrugged non-committally. "Not really," she hedged. "I mean, I don't really know what we are exactly. We're having a baby together but we're not really in a relationship let alone a committed, exclusive one."

"Plus," Lanie added, "you're scared."

"No, I'm not."

Her friend scoffed. "Um, yeah, you are."

"Shut up," Beckett grumbled, flashing her a good-natured grin.

"Have you told him about what happened to you? In college?"

The smile faded. Her eyes darkened. "Lanie," Beckett said, her voice suddenly low and filled with warning.

"I just think if he knew the whole story…"

"Lanie," she breathed again and this time her voice was hard, leaving no room for argument. "He knows I had an abortion and that's all he needs to knows."

"But, Kate—"

Beckett slipped off the table and held up a hand to stop her friend. "He doesn't need to know, Lanie. Okay?"

Lanie nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor with a sigh. "Alright."

—

Beckett sat on her couch, staring at the bottle of vodka resting on the coffee table in front of her. She'd pulled it out of her cabinet out of habit, with no real intention of actually drinking it.

She didn't like using alcohol as an emotional crutch, but every once in a while, she just needed to forget. Earlier that night when she'd returned to her apartment, she'd been struck with a sense of loneliness that was almost staggering in its strength. She thought of Lily Lenox and her father. She remembered the look on his face—the same look that her own father had wilted under for years after her mother's death. Standing in her doorway, looking at her dark, empty apartment, she'd felt that need for numbness that she usually fought, submerging it in an ocean of forced smiles and lonely nights.

She didn't want to drink—she couldn't—but she _did _want to forget. There were only two things she knew that truly made her mind go blank—vodka and sex.

She couldn't have vodka.

She picked up her phone.

—

It was two o'clock in the morning when his cell phone rang. He jolted awake, snatched it off the nightstand and pressed it to his ear, already knowing whose voice would be on the other end. "Beckett?" he murmured, his voice still rough and laced with sleep.

"Yeah," she answered. She sounded wide-awake.

He sat up in bed, his brow furrowing when she didn't continue. "Do we have a case?"

"No." She was quiet for a moment. "Can you…come over?" she asked. "I know it's late…"

He was already slipping out of bed. "No," he murmured quickly, before she changed her mind. "I can come. I'll be there in a few minutes."

—

He knocked once. The door opened almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for him. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she returned.

They stood eyeing each other for a moment before she stepped to the side and he moved past her, into the apartment. The door swept shut with a soft click. He turned back to her. He smiled at her uncertainly.

"So," he murmured.

"So," she echoed.

She wished he would come closer. Not very long ago, late night calls meant only one thing. He'd never made her ask before. She didn't know how to now.

She looked at the floor then back at him. He was wearing a light jacket over his pajamas. His hair was adorably tousled and his cheeks were shadowed with stubble. She walked over to him and stood in front of him. She reached up and pushed the jacket from his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a heap. He glanced down at it, then back at her. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Kate," he said softly. "Why did you call me?"

She didn't give any response besides a slight shake of her head. She ran her hands from his shoulders down his chest and back up again. He shifted towards her automatically, his breathing growing shallow. She could feel his heart rate pick up beneath her fingers. She smiled fleetingly, and tilted her mouth towards his, but he didn't kiss her.

His body was tense. Hands clenched at his sides. He was holding back. "Something's wrong," he murmured roughly.

"No," she lied. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about anything.

She pressed forward and found his lips. Her kiss was deep and hungry. _Desperate. _He kissed her back, but then lifted his hands to her cheeks and eased away from her. "Tell me what's wrong," he said softly, thumbs stroking across her cheeks.

"Castle," she breathed raggedly. "Please, don't."

"Kate…"

"It's nothing," she muttered.

She gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. Pressed her body into his. Ground into his hips until she felt him begin to respond. She kissed him again and this time he didn't pull away, but he didn't kiss her the way she wanted, the way she needed. He was gentle and soft and careful. She hated it.

"Castle, please," she whispered, then hated herself for it. Asking was one thing; begging was another.

He sighed. He pressed light kisses across her face, trying to decide. "Why won't you talk to me?" he murmured, his tone bordering on pleading.

It made her feel better, that he was begging for something too.

"I just want to forget," she told him. It wasn't the truth he wanted, but it was something.

He sighed again. His breath was hot against her lips. He held her tighter. Kissed her rougher. He was frustrated. _Good, _she thought. _That makes two of us._

He pushed her backwards. They stumbled across the carpet until the backs of her knees hit the couch and she fell away from him. He pressed his body against hers, pushing her down into the cushions. She was trapped, but for once, she didn't care. She wanted him to take her wherever he wanted as long as she could leave this day and all those memories behind.

His mouth was on her jaw and pressed in the hollow of her throat and trailing a line of kisses along the neckline of her shirt. She pushed her hands between their bodies and found the hem, pulling it up and over her head. He groaned quietly when he found her bare underneath.

He kissed her collarbone and the edge of her breast. She sighed and arched into his mouth. He kissed his way down her body, the valley between her breasts and the edge of her ribcage. When he reached her stomach, he paused, and suddenly, everything about him softened. The way he was holding her. The way he was kissing her.

He pressed his cheek to the spot just over her belly button and she watched as a grin spread across his features. She squirmed in his arms. His weight over hers suddenly felt stifling. She felt vulnerable. She hated him for it.

She pulled away, pushing him back and rolling out from under his body. She snatched her shirt off the floor and pulled it on, leaving him in a dazed heap on her couch as she strode away.

"Kate…" he said. His voice was soft. Hurt.

"I'm…" She trailed off, facing away from him. She pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling sudden tears rise in her throat.

Behind her, he got up off the couch and walked half the distant to where she stood, one hand resting on her stomach, head bowed towards the ground. "Why won't you talk to me?" he asked, that same pleading edge to his voice. "What did I do wrong?"

She let out a long, shaky breath. "Nothing," she told him honestly. "It's…me." _I'm scared. You scare me._

He didn't say anything after that and the silence stretched out between them. She still didn't look at him. Finally, she heard his sigh and his footsteps, walking towards the door. She heard the familiar creak as he swung it open. "Kate," he said softly. Her name sounded soft and wistful on his lips.

She lifted her head and glanced back at him, standing in her doorway, his eyes dark and shining with everything that was them. "I'm still here," he promised. _You can't push me away. _

Then he turned and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her standing in her empty apartment, alone with her memories and no way to make them go away.

—

_So, _that _was angst, right? After writing this chapter, I think I now know why I shied away from this type of story for so long. It's easy to write fluff and happy endings. Heartbreak is harder. More exhausting and just…sadder. But I kind of enjoyed it, too. Not enough to draw the angst out for forever, but it was a nice, new experience. _

_Reviews are awesome and make me write. Let me know what you think. Favorite lines? Moments? Least favorite lines? Moments? I want to know it all! _


	5. Heartbeat

_Sorry this has taken so long! I wish I could use the old, "I had a crapload of super-important college work to do," but since it's summer, I'm excuseless. Actually, here's one: I just didn't feel inspired. The muse left the building. Writing block overpowered me and I was left defenseless. Which, isn't really a lie, but I'm a firm believer in pushing through the pain (aka, getting off your ass and writing even if you don't feel like it) so I'm pretty much a big fat hypocrite. But no matter. Better late than never. Wait. Was that another excuse? Lord and Taylor. I can't seem to help myself... _

_Anywho. I'll stop rambling so you can go ahead and read the actual chapter._

—

Castle made a point of walking into the precinct the next morning and acting like nothing was different. He sat down. Placed her cup of decaf on her desk. Leaned back in his chair, cool as a cucumber. It was the only way he knew to prove to her that he meant it when he said, "I'm still here."

He knew she wasn't going to talk to him. He knew she was going to act normal, distant even. If he pushed her, she would run in the other direction. But maybe, if he stayed still, if he was there every time she turned around, just as solid and tangible as ever, she would come to him.

"Morning, Detective," he said, after a few moments of silence.

Distant was one thing, ignoring him was another. She glanced at him. "Morning, Castle," she returned grudgingly.

"What're we doing today?" he asked.

She shrugged. "_I _am filing paperwork from the Lenox case."

He nodded amiably. "Sounds good." He leaned back in his chair, hooking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

He listened to the sound of her pen scratching across paper for a few minutes. Then it paused and he could hear her shifting in her seat. He knew without opening his eyes that she was giving him a look.

"Castle," she said.

He peeked open one eye. "Beckett," he echoed.

She sighed. "Are you just going to sit there all day?"

"Well, I might get lunch in a couple hours and with all this coffee I'll probably have to go to the bathroom at some point…"

"Castle, I'm being serious."

"I am too."

"So you're just going to sit there, bothering me for the next eight hours?"

"I resent your implication, detective," he huffed. "I'll behave. I won't make a peep. You won't even know I'm here."

She gave him a doubtful look. "Yeah, right."

He tried his best to look indignant. "I promise."

She let out a long breath, her face darkening slightly. "Castle, I just…I think I need to be alone today." She looked at her coffee while she said it, instead of his face. The playful tone was gone from her voice.

He sobered up quickly. "Kate, don't push me away."

"I'm not," she said. She turned, her gaze locking on his, and he knew she meant it. "I just need time."

"Time," he repeated. "How much time?"

She paused. "How about I call you when I don't need anymore."

He nodded. What choice did he have? He stood and gathered his coat and coffee cup. "You'll call?"

"I promise."

—

She hadn't been lying when she'd said she needed time, but she felt guilty nonetheless. He probably thought she would spend the day in the bullpen, letting her mind wander while she filled out endless paperwork. But her request for space had come for other reasons besides a desire to do some soul searching.

She had an appointment. Her first checkup since she'd found out she was pregnant and she wanted to go alone. She knew Castle would be supportive and loving. He would probably tear up when they heard the heartbeat. Hold her hand and kiss her cheek. She didn't know if she could deal with that. His uninhibited happiness would only serve to further muddle her already muddled brain. She still didn't even know how _she _felt about the whole situation.

She wasn't considering the idea of an abortion anymore. That notion had left her mind as soon as the initial panic of the plus sign had worn off. She wanted to have a baby. She wanted to be a mother. She just didn't know how Castle fit into that equation anymore. For better or worse, she was far more sure of her ability to give her heart to a child than to a man who had proved his love a hundred times over. She was skittish. She was self-aware enough to know that. She had enough shame to at least admit that. The trouble came when she began to confront the reasons for her skittishness.

A part of her recognized the benefits of opening up to Castle. A bigger part of her was way too terrified to broach that topic with him yet. So she'd sent him away, pushed him away—did what she did best—rather than invite his sympathy (and inevitable pity).

As soon as Castle disappeared into the elevator, she stood and made her way to Montgomery's office. He looked up at her light knock. "Beckett," he said, waving her in.

"Hey, Captain," she said. "Can I…talk to you for a sec?"

He sensed her uncertainty almost immediately. "Of course. You want to sit?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I just…" She paused and forced herself to meet his eye. "I need to take the afternoon off."

"Okay," he said immediately. "Is everything alright?"

She nodded quickly. She knew she needed to tell him, but the words were strangely hard to form. _I'm pregnant. _Two words. Not so hard.

Then why was it so hard?

"I'm, uh…" She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the look on Castle's face when she'd first told him.

Montgomery stood from his desk and walked towards her. "Beckett, take a seat."

"No, it's okay, I'm just…"

"Beckett," he said, stern but still kind.

She sat down. "I'm sorry. It's nothing, really."

"Then why have you been standing there for the past five minutes stuttering over your words like a kid called to the principal's office?"

She smiled at the comparison, but it only made her feel worse. The thing was, there were so many things wrong with this situation. Telling your boss you were pregnant should be a happy moment, shouldn't it? For that matter, going to the doctor to hear your baby's heartbeat should also be a happy moment. But she wasn't happy. She was unsure and she hated the feeling.

"I need to tell you something."

"Then tell me," he said, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out before she lost her nerve.

She appreciated the fact that his face registered almost no shock or judgment. She also appreciated the fact that he didn't congratulate her. He'd known her long enough to realize that that wasn't what she needed right now. He nodded slowly. His eyes were understanding. "Okay."

"That's why I have to take the afternoon off. I have an appointment."

"That's fine. Take the rest of the day. Come back when you're ready."

"Thanks, Captain," she said sincerely. She stood and made her way towards the door.

"Beckett." She paused and turned. "Castle?" he guessed. She smiled fleetingly and nodded. "Alright then. I'll see you tomorrow."

—

Beckett hated doctor's offices. She hated the smell—sterile and stale. She hated the colors—beige on beige with some beige thrown in. She hated the sounds—quiet, punctuated by the shuffle of papers and the cries of babies. She would happily trade a seat in a waiting room for a seat in an interrogation room.

In the interrogation room, she knew where she stood. Plus, she was in charge, which was always a plus. She hated being at the mercy of anyone, doctors included, with their needles and white coats and unpronounceable words. Granted, this was a supposedly positive visit, but she still didn't like being there.

As she looked around at the women surrounding her, most of them round and beaming, she felt an inexplicable sadness rise in her throat and sudden tears burn behind her eyes. Almost all of these women had someone with them—if not a husband, then a friend. She was all alone.

_You made sure of that,_ she thought, a little self-deprecatingly.

She sighed and grabbed the nearest magazine, flipping through it distractedly. It was from almost four years ago and featured an in depth piece on George Bush. Someone had given the president horns and a mustache with a magic marker. Someone else had given him a halo. She sighed and tossed the falling-apart magazine aside.

"Is this you're first one?"

Beckett jumped slightly in her seat, startled. She turned to the woman who had addressed her. She was blonde and petite and looked about ready to pop. "Oh, um, yes. It is," she said.

"I could tell," the woman said, smiling. "You wouldn't be looking that nervous for a regular checkup, so I knew you must have a little bun in the oven."

Beckett did a little mental eye roll at the terminology. "Yup. That's me. Bun in the oven."

If the blonde noticed the sarcasm in her voice, she didn't comment. "I'm Susan, by the way."

"Kate."

"Is your husband on his way? Mine's always late for these things. He usually brings me flowers, though, so that's nice."

"No husband," Beckett told her, lifting her ring-less left hand as proof.

Susan looked momentarily stricken, but recovered quickly. "Oh, well. That's alright. You know," she leaned in conspiratorially, "I am a big supporter of lesbians."

"What?" Beckett coughed, not knowing whether to laugh or choke. "No, I'm not a lesbian. I'm just…single."

Susan seemed to prefer the lesbian option. "Oh, dear," she murmured. "I am _so_ sorry," she said sincerely as if Beckett had just confessed to suffering from terminal cancer.

"Um, thank you. I think." Beckett was really starting to wish Susan would go away.

"You're welcome," Susan chirped, completely oblivious. "Oh, look. There's my husband. And he brought me _roses! _He is just too sweet."

And with that, Susan heaved herself out of her chair and waddled over to a man hovering by the front entrance. Beckett watched their reunion with a mixture disgust and longing. She almost never found herself wishing for a husband. And, really, that wasn't what she wished for as she watched Susan take a delighted sniff of her roses. What she really wished for was a friend.

—

Castle was walking down the street after a morning of wandering aimlessly through the city, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, smiling when he saw that it was a text from Beckett. He had been prepared to wait days for her call, but now here she was, texting him not two hours after her request for time.

He opened the message and frowned. It was an address a few blocks away. _Must be a crime scene, _he thought, a little disappointedly. He had been hoping for a more personal text, not one sent out of obligation.

_I'll be there soon, _he wrote back, then closed his phone and began walking.

—

He was expecting a crime scene. Police cars, flashing lights, a swarm of people in uniform. What he found instead was a plain-looking office building.

He hurried up the steps and walked inside, going to the office mentioned in her message. _Margaret Riley, OB/GYN_, the non-descript sign on the door read. Understanding suddenly dawned on him. It had been a personal text after all. A _very _personal text.

He pushed open the door and paused on the threshold of the waiting room, scanning the seats quickly. There were a lot of pregnant women, but none of them were Beckett. He moved quickly to the front desk.

"Hi, I'm looking for a patient—Katherine Beckett."

The nurse behind the desk looked at him suspiciously. "Relation to the patient?"

Castle paused. He couldn't say partner. She wouldn't believe that without a badge. He paused. He decided to tell the truth. "I'm the father," he said.

"Mm-hm," the nurse mumbled, entirely unimpressed.

"You know…the father of her baby? Because she's pregnant?" he asked after a pause, feeling like an idiot in the face of her unsmiling scrutiny.

"This is an OB/GYN office. I know what you mean by 'father'." She looked annoyed. He hoped she wouldn't keep him from Beckett out of spite.

"So…can I see her?" he asked.

She eyed him for a moment, clearly enjoying making him squirm. But then her face softened slightly. "Room 103," she told him.

He grinned. "Thank you…_Lucinda,_" he said, reading the name off her shirt. "I appreciate it."

He was halfway down the hall before she could reply, knocking on 103 a moment later. The door opened a crack and a doctor (Margaret Riley, OB/GYN, he assumed) stuck her head out. "Who are you?" she asked bluntly.

"I'm Richard Castle. Kate's…friend."

She eyed him for a moment before disappearing behind the door. "Richard Castle is outside," he heard her saying. "Okay if I let him in?"

"Yeah, let him in," was Beckett's slightly delayed response.

The door re-opened a second later and this time he was invited inside. Beckett was sitting on the edge of the bed when he walked in. Her face was turned away, but he could tell she was embarrassed, ashamed even, that she'd called him.

Ignoring her decidedly guarded posture, he walked over and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head, before backing off again.

"Ready to answer a few more questions?" Dr. Riley asked, repositioning herself on a stool in front of a flat screen computer.

Beckett nodded. She still hadn't looked at him. Hadn't even acknowledged his presence. But she _had _called him. And that had to mean something, didn't it?

—

Beckett had been right. Castle was wonderful. Happy and sweet. Excited, even. He was so much better at this than she was. When the time for the sonogram came, he positioned himself at her side and reached for her hand.

Hers was cold and clammy. His was warm and strong. She wondered if he could tell she was nervous. If he did, he didn't react in any way, besides tightening his grip on her hand. She couldn't even figure out why she was nervous. Sure, she hated doctor's offices. They made her uneasy, but what she was feeling was more than simple discomfort.

Dr. Riley asked her to lift her shirt and spread a cold gel across her lower stomach. It took a while for her to find the heartbeat and Beckett felt like she was about to jump out of her skin. She was tense. Gripping Castle's so hard that she was almost sure she was hurting him. But he didn't complain and when she glanced up at his handsome face she could see the same emotions that she was feeling playing across his face.

Seeing them there, etched across his familiar features, she was able to identify them as worry. Worry for their baby. Was that what she was feeling, too? Of course it was. She was worried about her baby. Which meant she wanted her baby. Which meant that she was already attached to this clump of cells making headway in her uterus.

How strange that she hadn't realized it sooner. Up until that moment, she'd regarded what was happening in her uterus with a strange detachment. She didn't want to get rid of this fetus that would grow into a person. A child. Her and Castle's child. She recognized objectively that she was ready to be a mother. But the decision had been made with the same calculation that she'd used when she'd chosen her new apartment a year ago or bought a new car. It was deliberate and careful. Emotionless, almost.

But this moment, lying on a table in a doctor's office, with the image of her baby flickering across the screen in front of her, she felt the full weight of all the emotions she'd been suppressing sweep through her. She felt unexpected tears spring to her eyes—not tears of sadness, but tears of overwhelming, breathtaking happiness.

She thought of her mother, like she had thousands of other times, but this time it wasn't the image of her bloody body slumped in an alley or her ashen face, frozen in death that flickered through her thoughts. It was her mother as she remembered her from her childhood—warm and glowing and loving, a benevolent angel who could chase away any nightmare and soothe any hurt.

It was a picture that Kate rarely let herself think of. It was easier, in a way, to remember her mother solely as a murder victim. She was scared that if she let any other part in, she would be reduced to the broken, hollow girl who put her mother in the ground. The girl who struggled to get up in the morning and spent her days crying. The snap shots of her mother's body—the ones she kept pinned to her murder board—were the ones that had driven her to become a cop. They kept her focused, serving as constant reminders of the path she had chosen for her life.

But this image on the screen in front of her—a shadowy grey circle, almost unrecognizable as the burgeoning life it was—was a new path, a new world entirely. And as she stared at it, waiting for the heartbeat she now knew would come, she let herself revel in these new emotions, these new, strange tears pooling in her eyes.

Though her picture faded from her mind, she retained the strange sense that her mother was somehow with her. Next to her. In her. She felt close to her and as if she understood her in a different way. It took her a moment to pinpoint why. But when a loud whooshing sound suddenly filled the room, the sound of her baby's heartbeat, she realized why.

Now she was a mother, too.

—

Castle couldn't take his eyes off her.

It was as if she was transforming before his eyes. As she took in the flickering, grainy sonogram image, her face softened, tears pooled in her eyes. She was beautiful. Breathtaking and glowing and lovely. And when the heartbeat finally came, her eyes slid shut, her body relaxing back against the exam table.

He barely noticed when the doctor excused herself, leaving them in privacy. Her hand still gripped his, but he could tell she was a million miles away. He wondered if she was thinking of her mother.

When she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, he felt his breath catch at the emotions in her face. There was still a hint of sadness—he suspected there always would be—but there was also happiness. He was relieved to see it there in her face, in the tilt of her mouth and the shine of her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd looked anything but haunted.

"Hey," he said, feeling matching tears burn behind his eyes.

"Hey," she murmured back.

He began to lean toward her, not sure exactly which part of her he meant to kiss, but was relieved when she tilted her mouth up to meet his. This was a different kiss. A new kiss. It wasn't frantic or rushed. It wasn't pained or melancholy. It was gentle and sweet and intimate in a way that they had never been with each other.

There was still obvious passion in it—in the way her fingers wrapped around the fabric of his shirt, the way her lips parted in invitation. But it didn't have that edge of urgency that had colored most of their nights together.

It was soft. There was no other word for it. Soft and romantic and he didn't want it to end. Her lips were warm, her taste achingly familiar, but he also felt as if he was experiencing a new side of her. He'd once told her he thought she was a mystery he would never be able to solve. And even now, he knew there were parts of her that she still kept hidden.

He lived for the moments when she let her guard down and let him all the way in. And now, living one such moment, he felt, not for the first time since stepping into this doctor's office, the staggering weight of his love for her. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. How much their baby meant to him. But at the last second he hesitated. Instead, he drew his lips away from hers and pressed them to her forehead, hoping he could convey some fraction of the tenderness he felt for her in the simple gesture.

He thought she got the message when she leaned into the kiss and then let him pull her into his chest. "We're having a baby," she whispered, a little wonderingly.

He smiled. "Yes, we are."

—

_Okay. So, fail in the angst department. That last scene was pure fluff. In the end I couldn't figure out another way to do that scene, but I was a little surprised when it evolved into this. I set out to write a fairly angsty scene. I even debated whether or not Castle would even be there, but in the end I couldn't help myself. And once I put him in the room, I lost all hope of drama, because of course they would be happy and of course he would be sweet and loving and of course they would kiss. Nothing like a baby to bring two people who love each other together. _

_And can I just say how much I enjoyed getting inside Beckett's head in that moment? I basically love her and it was so satisfying to write out that transformation. She has been at a kind of disconnect during the first few chapters, caught up in a lot of muddled emotions, but I thought seeing the sonogram and hearing the heartbeat would snap her out of it. And that moment was a lot of fun to write._

_But never fear, angst is near. We still don't know exactly what happened to Beckett in college and let me just tell you it wasn't exactly a cakewalk. Some of you have put some guesses forward, but no one's totally hit the nail on the head. Feel free to continue hypothesizing in the reviews! _

_Oh, and speaking of reviews, please do. ;) _


	6. Revelation

_Holy Mother of All Chapters. You have no idea the blood, sweat and tears that went into this thing. I wanted it to be really good, really believable, and I was finding that kinda hard to pull off. I kept writing scenes and then discarding them and writing more scenes and discarding them too. It was so frustrating, but also rewarding in the end, because I feel like this chapter does a pretty good job of dealing with all of Kate's baggage in an in-character way. At least, I hope it does. Let me know!_

—

Castle strode into the bullpen and placed Beckett's coffee on her desk before glancing around for the detective. Her desk was neat, the way it looked when she tidied it at the end of the day. He frowned. He wondered fleetingly if he'd beaten her into the precinct. That would be a first.

He turned towards Esposito's desk. "Hey, Espo—"

"Break room," Esposito said without looking up from his paperwork.

Castle grinned. "Thanks, man."

He pulled open the door to the break room and immediately grinned at the sight before him. Beckett was fast asleep on the lumpy, old couch. She was lying on her side, head pillowed on the armrest, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other draped over her stomach.

He tiptoed closer, resting his coffee cup on the table and crouching down beside her sleeping form. He was loathe to wake her up, but knew she would be mad at herself if she slept the morning away.

"Kate," he whispered softly, reaching out to brush a tousled lock of hair from her eyes.

She stirred slightly under his touch, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh that made his heart clench. God, could this woman be any more endearing? "Kate," he murmured again and this time she awoke, blinking a couple of times before focusing her sleepy, blue eyes on his face. "Hey," he said, smiling.

"Mmm," she hummed. "What time is it?"

"A little after eight," he said. "How long have you been here?"

"A couple hours," she said. "I was doing some research down in archives and then I came up here and…"

"Decided to take a nap?" he supplied.

She smiled, looking a little sheepish. "I'm just so tired," she mumbled.

His face softened. "Yeah, well, you have a pretty good excuse. Growing another human being and all."

She smiled again. She was still adorably sleepy and out-of-it. He watched as her eyes drifted shut again. "I should probably get up," she said.

"Probably," he agreed.

She lay there in silence for a minute, before opening one eye and peeking at him. "Wake me up in twenty minutes?"

He grinned. "You got it."

He was just about to get up and leave when he paused and leaned towards her. She startled slightly at the brush of his lips against her forehead, but quickly relaxed again. "Was that okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. That was okay."

—

When Beckett walked out of the break room and saw him standing by her desk, she thought of donuts. She thought of donuts and stale coffee and the waitress with the red hair that had asked if she could call anyone for her, because here was a weepy nineteen-year-old sitting alone in a booth, body convulsing with every sob and hiccup.

"Brent," she whispered and her hand immediately went to her stomach out of memory and some instinct to shield.

He smiled and his face crumpled in the same way, though the lines around his eyes were more defined and graying stubble sprinkled his cheeks.

"Hey, Katie," he murmured affectionately, as if he wasn't a man that had crushed her heart and she hadn't been a girl who had loved him to oblivion (or at least thought she had).

She still felt hazy. The sleep had only just been stretched from her tired limbs. Castle had let her sleep longer, but her body had woken itself up after just twenty-five minutes. She felt crushed. She felt nineteen-years-old and scared. It was staggering what a face could do.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed, glancing quickly around the bullpen. It was practically empty. Where was everybody? Where was Castle?

"I wanted to see you. We just moved back from California."

There was that "we" again. The same one from that afternoon in the diner. She could still taste the burnt coffee (decaf, of course, because she needed to take care of herself now), taste the frosting on her lips. She had _worshipped_him and he'd ripped the world right out from under her feet.

"Look at you," he continued, that same note of affection in his voice, "a big, bad NYPD detective. Very impressive."

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. She tried to swallow, but couldn't. "I…I…"

She didn't feel like a big, bad cop. She glanced around again in the hopes that Castle would round the corner and see her pale face and wide eyes and stand between her and Brent.

"You look great," he said and his eyes dipped unabashedly over her body. She thought she might be sick. She hated him for making her wish to be saved.

"Listen, I think you…"

He took a step towards her. "You think what?"

She swallowed and tried to force oxygen into her aching lungs. "I think you should leave," she croaked, her voice coming out shaky and hoarse. What was he even doing here? It had been so long…

"But the reunion's only just started," he murmured. He was close to her now. So close that she could smell his cologne—the same cologne that had clung to her sheets for weeks no matter how many times she washed them.

"Brent…"

If he came any closer, she thought she might faint. Her hand still rested protectively, reflexively over her lower stomach. He smiled and this time it was triumphant, predatory almost. His eyes twinkled at her inability to form words in his presence.

He stepped forward again and she forced her wooden legs to step back. There wasn't much space between her back and the wall. Soon he'd have her trapped.

"Hey! Hey! What are you doing?"

Esposito. She felt her body crumple in relief. She leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, letting her heavy, blurry head fall to her knees. Brent was far away now. She could hear Esposito grilling him, telling him off, sending him away. And then his concerned hand was on her back, between her shoulder blades.

"Yo, Beckett," he murmured. "You okay?"

But she didn't answer him, because her eyes were filled with his face and she could taste the coffee and the frosting and his cologne still hung in the air, forcing its way into her lungs.

—

Beckett was sitting at her desk when the text came.

_Hey,__sorry__I__disappeared__today.__I__got__a__little__sidetracked.__On__my__way__back__to__the__precinct__now._

Beckett stared at her phone, trying to conjure some emotion in her muddled brain, but found that she was nothing but numb.

She closed her phone without answering and sat back in her chair, letting her heavy eyelids fall shut. What had happened to her? She had been happy this morning. Waking up to Castle and the look on his face when she'd smiled a sleepy smile, the feel of his lips at her brow, infinitely gentle and infinitely sweet. He would never hurt her. He would never let her be hurt.

The way he loved her was so simple. Without guile or sarcasm, without condition or hesitation. If only she'd known twelve years ago how it was supposed to be.

She felt empty. His face, with its snarl of a grin and dark eyes—so familiar, like something out of a bad dream—had drained her. She felt hopeless. She felt scared.

She felt nineteen-years-old.

—

"Hey, Beckett, we finally got a hold of those phone records."

Beckett lifted her head and blinked at Ryan. "What?"

Ryan frowned. He was used to Beckett being three steps in front of him, not ten steps back. "Um, the phone records. Of the victim?"

She nodded slowly. Her eyes drifted away from his face and fell to her desk.

"So…what do you want us to do?"

She shook her head slightly. She was so tired and she could still smell his cologne in the air. "I, um…"

Esposito stepped forward from behind Ryan. "I was thinking we should comb through the records and look for any anomalies that might tie our victim to David Anderson."

Beckett was quiet after his suggestion. Her gaze hung in the air. Donuts and bad coffee and redheaded waitresses. She could still smell his cologne. It took her weeks to get it out of her sheets.

"Does that sound good, Beckett?" Esposito prodded after a second.

"Yeah, sure," she mumbled.

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to work through the haze, trying to organize her thoughts. She was so _tired._ "I think I'm going to…go for a walk," she murmured.

She stood up, not even bothering to grab her coat, and walked to the elevator. When the doors parted on the first floor, she stepped off without looking up and crashed into someone trying to board. "Sorry," she mumbled, keeping her head down as she brushed past.

"Beckett?"

She paused at the sound of his voice, but kept her eyes trained on the lobby doors. She wanted to go outside. She could still smell the…and see his…

She moved forward and was out on the sidewalk within seconds. She could hear Castle behind her. "Hey, Beckett, wait—"

He huffed to a stop beside her. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her. The writer and his muse. She wondered what he read in her face. Was it fear? Was it numbness? Or just plain exhaustion?

She felt separate from herself and from the person who had felt his lips at her brow as morning light filtered through the smeared windows of the break room.

"You okay?" he asked.

She glanced at the ground. "Where were you today?" she asked softly.

He let out a long breath. "I needed to…pick something up."

"You were gone all day."

"I went downtown."

She looked up. Tilted her head and felt the way the sunlight fell across her face. "I could've used you at the precinct."

"I'm sorry," he murmured and she could hear the frown in his voice. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She looked at him then. Forced herself to meet his eyes. It was so simple, the way he loved her. She wished she could tell him what happened. Let the words fall out and away from her. She knew he would take them and hold them for her and maybe then her heart would stop thudding so heavily in her chest.

"I'm just tired," she lied smoothly. "Growing another human being in your uterus can wear you down."

He smiled fleetingly, but she could tell that he didn't quite believe her. "Don't worry about it, Castle." She took a step away from him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

—

Martha found her son in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, nursing a glass of scotch. "Hey, kiddo," she greeted him, noting the furrow of worry in his brow and the distant, preoccupied look in his eyes. "You okay?"

He looked up at her, still frowning, then let his gaze fall to his drink. He swirled the amber liquid, making the ice cubes tink against the sides of the glass. "It's just…"

"Beckett?" his mother supplied.

When his gaze snapped up to hers in surprise, she just offered a knowing smile and walked over to join him. "It's all over your face," she murmured, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulder. "You're worried about her, aren't you?"

He nodded, letting his head bow forward. His hair flopped in a disheveled forelock across his eyes. "She won't let me help her. She won't talk to me."

"You'll never change that about her, you know."

He nodded. "But doesn't she know…can't she tell that I…" He trailed off and shook his head. He twirled his glass around and around in his hand, picturing the waves of her hair, chestnut brown, burgundy, almost, if the light fell a certain way. Didn't she know?

"She knows," she murmured.

He closed his eyes and felt his mother's arm tighten around his shoulder. "Oh, Richard," she murmured sympathetically.

"I would be good to her," he whispered, feeling something catch in his chest. "I wouldn't let anyone hurt her. I would keep her _safe_."

"I know you would," Martha affirmed.

"Mother, I _need_her to stay safe," he said, turning toward her with an intensity to his gaze that made her ache for him. His eyes were full of all the ways that he loved her. Then, his voice low, "Especially now."

Martha frowned slightly. "Why especially now? What's going on?"

He blinked and shook his head slightly, a vague look of regret shadowing his features. "Nothing. I think I just need get some sleep."

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before dumping the remnants of his drink in the sink and heading up the stairs. Martha watched him go, a flicker of suspicion blooming somewhere in her mind, and wondered what she was missing.

—

It was late when she appeared in his bedroom. So late that it was early, with the sun just barely pushing up and over the horizon. The air was hazy with grey, shadowed light. He didn't know what made him wake up. Whether it was her smell or her footsteps or just her sadness that made him slog through his subconscious and part his eyes to reality.

He watched her, silent, as she slipped out of her jacket and shoes. She was trembling as she eased onto the mattress beside him. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes wide and glazed with unshed tears. He drew her into his arms immediately, unquestioning, blind to everything except her unspoken need for comfort. He pulled her body to his body and breathed deeply, letting her feel the way his chest expanded and contracted, the steady beat of his heart.

She looked into his eyes, her hands pressed to his chest, and they breathed together. In and out. In and out. She melted into him slowly. Her breaths evened out, her eyes drooped shut. He tucked her head just under his chin and pulled her even closer, feeling every dip and bend of her body and the way that each fit against him.

He held her in his arms as the sun rose and replaced the shadows on her face with light. He stroked her hair. Kissed her forehead. Held and held and breathed and watched her breathe. Her body was heavy against his and he wondered what had happened.

She woke up again at some point in the morning. He didn't know how much time had passed, but her eyes were clearer when they opened, unburdened.

"Hey," he murmured. He brushed the hair from her eyes and let his fingers trace the curve of her cheek.

"Hey," she returned. She looked utterly content, tucked against him, but still vaguely haunted.

"Wanna tell me?" he asked gently. His gaze was on her forehead and her lips and her chin, before coming to rest on her eyes once again.

She nodded slowly. Her eyelids fluttered shut. Old coffee and frosted donuts and kind, redheaded waitresses.

"You know how I got pregnant in college?" she began, her voice barely above a whisper. He nodded. "It wasn't some guy I barely knew. He was my freshman advisor. He was brilliant and charming and I fell in love with him. I thought he loved me, too. I got pregnant in the spring. I was so scared but then I told him and he acted so _happy._"

She trailed off, her voice hitching slightly, her eyes hardening at the memory. "I was two months along when he called me and told me to come to this shady diner a few miles off campus." She paused. She stared at a spot just over his shoulder, her fingers curling around the soft fabric of his t-shirt. "He ordered me a decaf coffee, because _I__had__to__take__care__of__myself__now,_and a donut because I'd been craving sweets. Then he took my hands in his and told me he was moving to California with his wife. I never saw him again, until yesterday."

Castle's eyes flickered with understanding, but he remained quiet, waiting for the rest of her story.

"This is the part you know," she murmured. Her eyes fell to her hands, still toying with his shirt, then lifted to his eyes. "I got the abortion. And tried to move on. It took me a long time to stop hating myself. Not for ending the pregnancy, but more for…" She trailed off and shook her head slightly. "For falling in love with him. For being so innocent. For letting my guard down and getting my heart pulled to pieces."

"_Kate,_" he breathed, her name falling from his lips almost unconsciously because those shouldn't be things to be sorry for. He tightened his arms around her and she moved into him. He pressed his lips to her forehead and heard her sharp inhale, the catch in her breathing.

"He made me distrustful of love. And then my mom died and it was like my heart wasn't whole anymore. When I came to the twelfth, I was a wreck. Royce put me back together again. And, God, I _worshipped_him. But then…" She trailed off, tears shining in her eyes.

"But then he left you, too," Castle murmured.

She nodded and bowed her head. "I built a wall, Castle. I didn't know what else to do. I _hurt_, everywhere, and I couldn't _breathe._ So I closed myself off." She paused and met his eye again. Her eyes were full, but her lips quirked with the ghost of a smile. "When you came along, I was broken."

He lifted a hand to her cheek. Infinitely gentle, infinitely sweet. "You weren't," he said.

"I wasn't having any fun," she murmured. "And you scared me, Castle. You scared me so much. Because you began chipping that wall away without even trying and then…and then I fell in love with you."

She smiled briefly at his wondering face. "It took me a while to realize it. I didn't _want_to realize it for a while, but when I did it…it took my breath away."

His face softened, fading from awe to…_love._ "In a good way?"

"In the best way."

—

He was dreaming. He knew he was. It was all too intimate, too warm and soft and wonderful to be real. But he wasn't dreaming. He breathed real oxygen and touched real skin and when he blinked she didn't fade away.

Katherine Beckett loved him. Kate Beckett was in love with him.

"I love you, too," he whispered, almost wishing he'd been the first to say it. He'd known for _so_ long.

She smiled and he smiled too, loving the way she curled into him, loving how good she felt against him, all soft curves and sleep-tousled hair. "What happened last night?" he asked.

She let out a long breath and rested her head on his chest. "I realized I was in love with you and then I got mad. I got really, really mad."

"At who?"

"At _him_. For messing with my heart and still having so much power over me. I started to think that if only I'd never met him, if only I'd never slept with him, maybe I would've met you sooner and maybe I could've been happy longer and maybe—"

"Hey," he interrupted, lifting a finger to her lips. "Don't think in _if__onlys_. It's not worth it."

"But maybe—"

"_Maybe,_" he murmured, leaning close to brush his lips over hers, "I love you."

She smiled then, her eyelids fluttering shut in acquiescence. "Maybe?" she questioned.

"Mmm. _Definitely._"

She laughed and it came out soft and a little hoarse and more sexy than anything he'd heard in his life. He kissed her deeply, parted her lips and groaned softly at the slide of her tongue over his. He ran his hand down her side and under the hem of her shirt. Groaned again at the smooth, soft expanse of her back beneath his fingers. Everything felt new and exciting because he loved her and now he could say it.

"I love you," he murmured as he kissed his way across her jaw and down her neck.

"I love you," he breathed when he pressed his lips to the top of one breast and then the other.

"Love you," he promised and made his way down to her stomach, grinning like a little boy as he lifted her shirt and kissed her bellybutton before descending lower.

By the time he made it to the snap on her jeans she was already way past breathless and bordering on desperate. "_Castle,_" she moaned as he tugged her pants off and returned his hands to her thighs.

He kissed her ankle and her calf and the back of her knee, mumbling _love_ all the way up. By the time he reached her inner thigh, she had one hand in his hair and the other gripping a fistful of sheets. "Rick," she whispered and just his name on her lips was enough to make him give up on teasing.

He pressed his lips to her clit, sucking gently, before delving deep with his tongue. She arched off the bed, legs parting automatically, fingers twisting (probably painfully) in his hair. It wasn't long before she was falling back against the sheets, her muffled moan echoing through his quiet bedroom, because he knew her—knew what made her crazy and what made her come. He lifted his head, grinning widely, and moved back up her body, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before collapsing onto the bed next to her.

"God," she breathed and turned towards him with that sleepy, sated look he loved so much.

"I agree," he murmured.

She turned towards him and rested against him again. "I'd like to reciprocate, but I'm really—" She paused to yawn, which made him want to kiss her just for being so damn adorable. "—but I'm really sleepy."

He nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Later," he said, both a promise and a question, which she answered by lifting her head and kissing him deep and full on the mouth.

"Later," she agreed.

—

_Gah! So much Caskett love! I'm actually really proud of that last scene, because I feel like it's fluffy without being nauseating, which, I've always found, is a very tricky line to walk. _

_So let me know what ya'll think. Was Kate's backstory believable? Was her reaction in character? Was the fluff intolerably cute? I'd really love to know!_

_And look forward to more Caskett fluff in the next chapter as well as further resolution of the Brent issue. _


	7. Wake

When Castle opened his eyes, he found her already awake and watching him, an unreadable expression on her face. She was lying a couple of feet away. He wanted to reach for her immediately—bury his head in her hair and list all the things that he loved about her—but something in her eyes made him pause.

"You okay?" he murmured sleepily.

She frowned slightly and dropped her eyes to the space between them, tracing the lines of the rumpled sheets. "I think so."

He reached a hand toward her automatically, but then stopped, his fingers coming to rest a few inches from her body. "You sure?"

"I woke up a couple of hours ago," she told him. "I thought about leaving." She met his gaze, something like regret stirring in her eyes. "I always used to leave."

He swallowed and didn't look away. "You're still here."

She nodded and her lips quirked slightly at the edges. He smiled back automatically—hopefully. "Why?" he asked.

"I didn't want to go," she breathed, smiling in earnest now. She shrugged and fingered the edge of her pillowcase, studying him thoughtfully. "I'm not so scared anymore."

He lifted his hand and let it drift over her face. Fingertips brushed the hair from her forehead and sifted through the long, chestnut strands. His touch was almost reverent—wondering and hesitant. He met her eyes and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm glad you didn't leave," he said quietly.

He lifted his palm to her cheek and she turned her face into the touch. Reached up and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. He watched as one, lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye and dribbled down her cheek, leaving a small dark spot on her pillow.

"C'mere," he whispered, full and rough and maybe a little desperate.

She moved into his arms unquestioningly. He pulled her close, tucking her under him. He kissed her softly, loving the way her body felt under him and against him. It made his head go fuzzy. He never wanted to stop touching her.

She moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, shifting restlessly against him, legs parting automatically to draw him closer. He pulled away from her briefly, taking in her half-lidded gaze and flushed cheeks, before dipping his head and pressing a line of kisses down her neck and along the angle of her collarbone. She made a soft whimpering sound, her breath hitching slightly, when he pressed his lips to her breast.

"You okay?" he murmured, pausing in his ministrations long enough to meet her eye.

She pursed her lips slightly, as if debating whether or not to tell him something. "This probably isn't very sexy, but my boobs have been really sensitive lately."

He chuckled softly, the sound lightening the mood considerably. "I understand," he murmured, leaning forward and nuzzling just behind her ear.

She giggled as his stubble tickled her neck, but the sound turned to a gasp when he began sucking at her pulse point. "Sensitive can be good, you know," she breathed, feeling a little delirious at how good _everything _he did felt.

He pulled back and frowned slightly. "You sure?"

She nodded, wishing he would kiss her. Any part of her, every part of her. "Could you just…be gentle?"

His face softened. He kissed her forehead and her cheek and her jaw. "Of course," he promised.

He bowed his head forward and brushed his lips across the edge of her breast in a whisper-soft caress that made her sigh and arch into him. He was endlessly gentle and infinitely sweet when he finally pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking just hard enough to make her gasp.

Every touch, every movement of his tongue felt heightened, made her thoughts blur and fade into nothingness. _God,_ but he was good at this. When he returned his lips to her mouth, she moaned appreciatively, the sound vibrating through the kiss—deep and searching and _full_.

He rolled onto his side and pulled her with him. "You okay?" he murmured, brushing her hair away from her face.

She nodded, feeling like she'd been taken apart and put back together again, because he touched her in all the right ways and loved her in all the right ways and when he held her she felt like she could be more than who she was.

"I'm good," she whispered, just as inarticulate as can be. But he smiled as if he understood and kissed her again.

She draped her leg across his hip and felt the way their bodies locked together. He kissed her and kissed her and then suddenly he was inside her and everything about the moment was warm and soft and knowing.

The first time had been about love and about _saying _it. Now it was quieter. It was about touch and the unsaid and looks that were full of _I know you._ He held her tight against his chest as he moved and when she finally broke apart his arms were around her and she wondered why she'd ever thought about running away.

—

They spent the day in bed. She didn't go to work and she didn't miss it. She didn't think about Brent.

"Sometimes I try to think of the exact moment I started to fall in love with you."

Her eyes were closed when she said the words. They were lying side-by-side, separate, but not quite apart. Her hand rested in the center of his chest. His palm hugged the curve of her hip. "What do you come up with?" he asked after a moment.

She was quiet for a while. He watched in fascination as a slow smile bloomed on her face. "Did you know that the first time we met wasn't really the first time we met?"

He frowned slightly at the admission. "What do you mean?"

She opened her eyes and god help him but his breath caught slightly at that one-of-a-kind green, soft like dawn and deep like memory. "I went to a book signing," she told him. "Waited in line for an hour and a half to get my copy of _Flowers for Your Grave _signed."

He was fascinated and a little bewildered. He thought he would've remembered her. "Well?" he prompted. "Did I sign it?"

She grinned at him, feeling close to laughter at his boyish smile, his rapt attention. "You did. You were charming, but not fake. There was something almost…" She hesitated, then trailed off, her eyes flitting away from his face.

"What?" he murmured. "Tell me."

She looked at him, feeling almost sheepish. "It sounds silly, but…there was something gentle about you. Comforting. I remember thinking you would never hurt me."

When he didn't say anything right away, she looked away, rolling onto her back. "I know—it's stupid. But I had just lost my mom and my heart was broken and you were nice to me."

She let out a long breath, feeling foolish and wishing she hadn't said anything. But then he shifted towards her. Wrapped his arm around her waist. Tugged her across the sheets and tucked her under his body.

"Hey, it's not stupid," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair. "It's completely understandable. And I'm glad I was able to help you in some small way."

She gave him a questioning look and he paused. Now it was his turn to hesitate, but as he looked down at her face, still a little flushed with embarrassment, and those eyes that he could lose himself in a thousand times over, he knew he _wanted_ to tell her.

"It kills me sometimes that there was this whole part of your life when you were hurting and I wasn't there to comfort you."

"_Rick_," she murmured, her voice hushed and her fingers gentle on his cheek. "Don't do that. There's no use in _what ifs_. You told me that yourself."

"I know," he whispered. "But it still makes me feel better that I was kind to you when you needed it. That I helped you in some small way."

"Sometimes I think that's the moment I started falling in love with you," she admitted. "And then when I got to know you and realized it was true—that you would never hurt me—that's when I was really a goner."

He grinned, feeling slightly breathless at all these admissions coming from the woman he'd loved for so long, the woman who'd been a closed book from the beginning. He'd thought he liked the mystery. But knowing her, really _knowing _her like this—warm and beautiful in his arms with hazy morning light falling across the bed—was so much better.

He pressed his lips to her neck, finding that spot right below her jaw that made her gasp. "I loved you from the moment you flashed that badge in my face," he told her, his voice muffled against her skin.

"You're such a liar," she accused, even as her body arched into his touch. "I think what you were feeling in that particular moment was lust."

"I'd never met a woman like you," he whispered. "I think the love came faster than I expected." He pulled back to look at her and his smile was gentle and knowing. "You've always had a way of surprising me."

She sighed softly and he didn't know if it was because of his words or his touch, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, he thought maybe it was both.

—

Her phone woke her up. She startled awake, then groaned quietly, because _god _she did not want to get up. She was wrapped up in Castle and it was a place she wanted to stay, with his chest pressed to her back and his palm settled gently over her stomach and his breath warm in her ear. She closed her eyes and let herself revel in the feeling for a moment more before grabbing her phone on the third ring.

"Beckett," she answered, suppressing a laugh as Castle pulled her back against his body and began pressing a line of kisses down her neck.

"Yes, Katherine Beckett—that's me. Who's calling?"

She started to listen to the answer but got momentarily distracted when Castle pressed a kiss to her mouth and let his hand drift up over her abdomen, his fingers feathering along the edge of her annoyingly—_blissfully?—_sensitive breast. She held the phone away long enough to whisper his name in what was supposed to be annoyance but ended up sounding suspiciously like breathless pleasure.

He only smiled and kissed her again and she let herself melt into it for a split second before remembering her caller and pressing the phone back to her ear. "Um…sorry—could you repeat that?"

Castle was kissing his way across her collarbone when he felt her tense. He lifted his head and watched as her brow furrowed, her eyes darkening. "How did you get this number?" she asked, her voice suddenly rough.

On the other end of the line, he laughed, and she wondered why she hadn't recognized his voice sooner. A bad connection or maybe Castle's distracting hands. Hands that had now stilled, his palm resting warmly on her ribcage. She met Castle's eye and held it as he kept talking into her ear.

"I won't meet you," she interrupted once she'd found her voice. "Don't call me again."

Her voice was sturdy as the words left her mouth, but as she lowered the phone from her ear, Castle saw the way her hand shook. "It was him?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Yeah, that was Brent. He, um…" Her eyes met his. "He wants to see me."

—

"Okay, let's be rational about this. He has your phone number, but he won't be able to get to you. He's not going to get into the precinct again and he doesn't know where you live…"

"He got my phone number, Castle. My _personal, _unlisted phone number. I'm sure he's figured out my address."

Castle frowned and tried to ignore the way his chest was tightening with the realization that this asshole who seemed hell-bent on getting his hands on his-his…_Beckett_, knew exactly where she was and how to get to her. He turned back to the coffee maker and busied himself with making her a decaf latte so he didn't do what he really wanted to do which was panic.

For a few moments, his kitchen was silent except for the sounds of his espresso machine as it huffed and puffed and foamed.

"Look, Castle, I'm gonna go to work."

That made him turn around. Her words were soft. She sounded almost resigned. He abandoned the latte and walked over to where she was leaning against the counter, looking just as breathtakingly beautiful as ever in her clothes from two days ago, her hair unkempt, her eyes shining with worry but also affection and some of the tiredness that he knew she wouldn't be able to shake for a couple more months.

"He's not going to bother you," he promised, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her forehead. "I won't let him hurt you again."

She nodded and let herself lean into him, falling into that sense of comfort that he'd given her since day one. "I'll see you at the precinct, okay?" she said.

"I'll go with you," he offered.

"No, it's okay. I need a little time to…gather my thoughts."

He tried to hide it, but she must've noticed his disappointment, because she leaned into him and kissed him deep and full on the mouth. He groaned softly at that taste that he knew would fill his dreams for the rest of his life. "I'll see you soon," she whispered, her breath ghosting across his lips.

He nodded and released her reluctantly. "I'll see you soon."

—

She should've expected it. Maybe she would've if her mind had been focused on the facts, the big picture, and not on the man whose apartment she'd left twenty minutes ago. She felt a million miles away as she drove toward the precinct. Well, not a million miles—just a few blocks back, really, back to Castle and his rumpled, morning hair and the solid comfort of his body against hers.

Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was love, but _god _she had never been so turned on by a man in her life. Castle was good in bed. She'd expected that much. But there was a difference between the man who she had slept with for all those months and the man who had held her in his arms last night and that morning, all soft words and soft touches that had her going a little crazy.

It had her distracted and forgetting and _she should've expected it_. He was there when she walked into the coffee shop. Of course he was. She saw him immediately and stopped, her hand reaching out automatically to grip the back of a nearby chair.

He stood and walked over to her and her heart thudded and skittered in her chest. "Brent," she breathed.

"Kate," he murmured, tipping his head forward in greeting. "Nice to see you again."

She forced herself to let go of the chair. Forced herself to stand up straighter and meet his eye. She was almost as tall as him in her heels. "I think you should leave," she said, sounding eerily calm, even to her own ears.

"Just getting coffee," he said, even though his hands were empty and she knew he'd always preferred tea.

Her spine was stiff. Her whole body felt stiff. She refused to let herself crumple. She forced herself to look at him, really _look_ at him and she began to notice things she hadn't seen before.

His hair was not only greyer, but also thinning. The lines on his face were deep. The spaces around his eyes were shadowed. He looked old, she realized. Old and tired and oddly desperate. She glanced down at his hand and saw that his ring finger was empty. _Oh_.

When she lifted her eyes back to his face, he seemed different. Looked different. Maybe she was just seeing things differently. "I think you should leave," she said again. She wasn't so scared anymore.

He took a step towards her. "I think we should talk."

—

He didn't know how he knew it was him,but he just did. And as soon as he saw him, something inside Castle snapped. He didn't know what came over him. One minute he was walking into the coffee shop, planning on surprising Beckett at the precinct with her favorite coffee, and the next he was grabbing Brent's arm and punching him square in the face.

Brent stumbled, looking a little stunned, then fell to a heap on the floor. Beckett looked down at Brent, then up at Castle, an unreadable look on her face.

"_Castle_," she hissed, "what the hell?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, not feeling sorry at all and he couldn't help but notice Beckett wasn't looking too concerned herself. "I just…lost it a little."

"Did you have to lose it in a public place?" she asked, as she crouched on the ground next to Brent who was conscious now and mumbling something unintelligible.

He shrugged and flexed his fist, feeling a slight ache and not caring. He wondered if that ache might turn into a throb in a couple hours, but right now he was going to bask the flood of alpha-male, protective-instinct testosterone that was currently making him feel jumpy and a little unstoppable.

"What are we gonna do?" he asked.

Beckett glanced at his face then at the gathering crowd surrounding them in a semi-circle. "We're gonna go to the precinct."

"Him too?" Castle asked, pointing to Brent's bloody face.

Beckett rolled her eyes. "What? You wanna leave him?"

"No," he said. "Yes."

Beckett sighed. "Too bad. C'mon, help me lift him. My car's just outside."

—

**I'm so, so sorry this took so long everybody. Life and other writing commitments got in the way, but I have every intention of continuing this story, I swear. I'll try to have another update soon—even if it's not in a couple days, I promise I will not let three months go by. **

** But, as always, let me know what you think. Some of you requested a Castle punch-out scene and I couldn't resist. I could really picture him doing that, couldn't you? And let me know what you thought of the fluff in the beginning of the chapter. Those couple scenes were so fun and beautiful to write. I never get sick of all that lovey-dovey stuff and I hope you don't either! **


	8. Grownups

Beckett was quiet on the ride back to the precinct. Brent was still woozy in the backseat, his head lolling to the side as he slipped in and out of consciousness. It made Castle's chest swell with a Neanderthal kind of pride that the guy was so bad at taking a punch.

Once they reached the precinct, Beckett called over a couple of uniforms for help. They cuffed Brent on her request. Castle was surprised and worried because the look in her eyes had turned dark. Once they stepped out of the elevator into the bullpen, Beckett ordered Brent into an interrogation room, then paused beside her desk.

Castled paused too and tried to get her to look at him. "Isn't this illegal?" he asked, just because he couldn't ask her about the look in her eye, the way she'd gone from soft and pliant in his bed that morning to a closed book, the hard, unyielding wall she'd hidden behind for so long.

She shrugged, still not meeting his eye. "Maybe. If he really pushes it I can charge him with harassment."

Her tone sounded clinical and it made him uneasy. He wished she would look at him. "Beckett." Her body shifted slightly, towards him, but her eyes remained fixed in the distance. "_Kate._"

She sighed at that, her eyes drifting shut. "Don't ask me why, okay?"

"But—"

She raised a hand to stop him, and lifted her eyes suddenly, abruptly to his. "I need to do this. For me. I need—"

Her eyes were bright with her need for him to understand and all at once he did. Brent was unfinished business. He'd shattered her and left her broken and she wanted him to see that she wasn't the scared little girl he'd abandoned in that diner all those years ago.

He nodded. "Okay," he murmured.

And then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, right there in the middle of the bullpen with Ryan and Esposito standing just a few feet away. He didn't care. And when she lifted her hand to his chest, gripped the lapel of his jacket gently between her fingers and smiled softly, he thought maybe she didn't either.

—

When Beckett walked into the interrogation room and saw him sitting there, she faltered slightly, but only for a moment. This was her turf. She was _good _at this. And he couldn't break her heart because it didn't belong to him anymore.

"Brent Field," she said. He began to stand but she lifted her hand and pointed at his chair. "Sit down."

He sat. He looked vaguely worried, which probably gave her more satisfaction than it should've. "Kate, what is going on? Why am I in here when _I _was the one who was assaulted?"

"I'll be asking the questions," she said coolly, pulling out a chair and sitting down slowly. She folded her hands in front of her. Met his eye. Willed her heart to slow. "What brings you to the city, Brent?"

"You know why I'm here," he said. His voice was soft and gentle. It was the same tone he'd used on those late nights in his office, the ones that had started out discussing a paper and ended on the couch with his hand up her skirt. He'd taken advantage of her, but she wasn't a start struck nineteen-year-old anymore and his words and his voice and the smarmy curl of his smile only grated on her.

"I don't think I do," she said, keeping her tone even.

He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I'm here for you, of course."

"For me?"

"Yes," he murmured. "Just a friendly visit to my old…_student_."

"Huh," she said, tipping her head to the side in feigned confusion. "Interesting. Because harassing me in my workplace and placing unwanted calls to my personal number doesn't sound like a _friendly visit _to me."

"Aw, c'mon, Katie—"

"That would be _Detective Beckett _to you, Mr. Field."

"Mr. Field? You haven't called me that in a while. Probably not since the night I took you out on our first date. You couldn't stop calling me Mr. Field remember? Even after we got back to my apartment and were on the couch…"

"Be careful, Brent, assaulting a cop is a felony offense."

"Assaulting a cop? Kate—"

"_Detective _Beckett."

He sighed, but she saw the way his eyes flicked away from hers, the way his shoulders stiffened with unease. "I have not _assaulted_ you, Detective," he mumbled.

"Maybe not. But I'm good cop, Brent. I have a long history of handing over nice, neatly wrapped cases to the DA. There isn't a judge in this city who wouldn't be happy to do me _favor_."

He blinked at her. "What happened to you, Kate? This isn't you. The girl I remember…"

She stood up abruptly, leaning over the table, her gaze hard and unyielding on his startled face. "The _girl _you remember was innocent and inexperienced. You took advantage of her. You made her grow up pretty damn fast. Opened her up to a whole world of heartbreak."

She paused and took her time running over the lines of his face. He looked pathetic—the epitome of a mid-life crisis, scrambling for a foothold in a world that had finally given him what he deserved. "That girl is gone. And I'm here. And I'm a _grownup _and I understand what love is now."

She straightened herself, but never let her gaze waver from his. "I'm not angry at you. I'm stronger than that. I pity you." She shook her head slightly at his slumped form. "You're free to go."

She turned and walked over to the door, but paused with her fingers on the handle. "Just so you know," she said, "I'm going to forget you. You're not worth a second thought."

And with that she turned the handle and disappeared around the corner.

—

Castle stood beside Ryan and Esposito in the observation room, frozen in place. It took him a second after Beckett left the interrogation room for him to come to his senses, but when he did, he bolted out the door and immediately scanned the swarming bullpen for her face. She was standing beside her desk, one hand gripping the back of her chair, the other resting almost absentmindedly on her lower stomach.

He went to her immediately. "Kate," he murmured, resting a gentle hand on her waist.

She blinked a couple times as if pulling herself from a daydream. She looked up at him and her eyes immediately filled with unexpected tears. She looked away again, but took his hand and led him away from her desk, away from the bustling bullpen, into an old supply closet that locked from the inside. He would've laughed at standing there with her surrounded by packages of toilet paper and cleaning products. But the look in her eyes was dead serious so he stayed quiet and waited.

She leaned into him, finding his mouth with hers. The kiss turned desperate almost immediately and quickly unraveled into out-of-control. He turned them and settled her back against the wall, his hands sneaking under her shirt and running over the smooth planes of her back. She arched into his touch and groaned when their hips collided, fitting together perfectly the way they did. His breath was just as ragged and undone as hers as he pressed into her, wedging his thigh between her legs. She let out a startled cry of pleasure at the sudden application of pressure where she needed it most.

She bowed her head forward, pressing her face into the curve of his neck as she let out a helpless moan, rocking against his leg. He trailed a line of kisses down her neck and lifted her arms over her head, letting her feel the full press of his body all along the length of hers.

"Castle," she breathed, a sound like a whimper catching in her throat. "I—"

"Shh," he breathed, his voice rough and comforting. "You're okay. Just let go."

But it was too much. He made her feel too much. She didn't like being this out of control. "Do you love me?" she asked, feeling the pleasure pool in the pit of her stomach, the delicious tingle that made her body arch and her toes curl.

"Yes," he promised. "I do."

She made a sound somewhere close to a groan as he rocked against her again and again and _again_, the friction between her legs building until the pleasure was almost painful. "Say it," she breathed. "I want to hear you say it."

He paused suddenly, going still against her. The loss of movement made her whimper and ache for completion. "Kate," he murmured. She lifted her glazed, shining eyes to his and she could see it even before he said it. "_I love you._"

And he kissed her and she shifted against him and his hands and his lips and those words andmaking him _say_ _it_—it pushed her up and over that ledge she'd been teetering on and when she opened her eyes he was looking at her like she was perfect. He was looking at her like he knew her and understood her and she didn't have to explain herself.

—

Ten minutes later they stood quietly in the dark, little room. He held her against him. Her face rested against his shoulder, her body relaxed and pliant and sated in his arms.

Even though he would've be happy to stand and hold her till he lost the feeling in his legs, he knew they couldn't hide all day. "Kate?" he murmured, turning his head and pressing his lips to the tip of her nose.

Her eyelids fluttered, but remained shut. "Mmm," she hummed, tucking herself even closer to him.

He chuckled softly. "Babe, you can't go to sleep."

She frowned, her forehead puckering in the most adorable way. "I know." She lifted her head from his shoulder and rubbed her eyes. "I like it in here."

"Me too," he agreed.

She let out a long breath and pressed her lips, briefly, to his. "Thanks, Castle," she murmured.

He smiled. "You're welcome."

—

It ended up being a pretty run-of-the-mill day considering how it started. Beckett spent it doing paperwork and Castle spent it supplying her with decaffeinated coffee beverages and driving across the city to a tiny bakery tucked between two towering office buildings to pick up a certain pastry she was craving.

By the time they left the precinct, Beckett was exhausted, which she found more annoying than anything. She'd been known to go for three days without sleep and here she was ready to pass out after a normal, uneventful workday.

"Wanna come back to my place?" he offered as they stepped out onto the street.

She paused and he did too. She moved into him, her gaze thoughtful. She liked his apartment. His high-thread-count sheets and fancy espresso machine. But she wasn't ready to give up her home field advantage just yet. She needed to be in her apartment, her space, surrounded by her things. "How 'bout you come back to _my _place," she suggested.

His eyes flickered with understanding. "I'd love to."

She led the way in her car, but he somehow managed to park quick enough and leap out in time to open her door for her—a gesture that had her rolling her eyes and smiling indulgently all at once. He managed to scrounge ingredients from her relatively barren cabinets and throw together a delicious pasta dish that she devoured ravenously.

"Between the nagging exhaustion, the outrageous appetite and the random nausea attacks I feel like my body's been taken over by an alien."

He grinned at her across the table. "Yeah, well, it kinda has."

She laughed softly, feeling the tug of sleepiness now that her stomach was full. "What time is it?" she asked, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn.

Castle glanced at his watch. "Nine fifteen."

"God," she grumbled. "I'm pathetic."

"Tell you what," he said, standing up and beginning to gather up the dishes from the table, "you go lie down on the couch and I'll clean up and then we can go to bed."

"I can help, Castle. I'm not an invalid."

He walked over to where she was still seated, his hands piled with plates and silverware, and kissed her gently. "I know you're not. But just let me bask in the allusion of taking care of you for one night."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. But I'm only doing this because I really am tired."

He nodded. "Of course."

She stood up and made her way over to the couch, stretching out on the cushions with a grateful sigh. She didn't mean to fall asleep, but when she opened her eyes again Castle was lifting her from the couch.

She blinked sleepily up at him. "I'm perfectly capable of walking up the stairs myself, Castle," she informed him, her voice slightly hoarse with sleep.

"I know, Detective, but you gave me tonight to take care of you and I'm taking full advantage."

She sighed but let herself relax in his arms. She'd spent the last decade avoiding being vulnerable, keeping her guard up at all costs. Now here she was, letting herself get tucked into bed by a man. But it wasn't just any man. It was Castle and that, somehow, made it okay. He made her want to let go, to let her walls come down, because he didn't see her scars, he just saw _her._

By the time he pulled back the covers and set her down on the mattress, she was already falling back to sleep. She was only dimly aware of his movements as he slipped out of his jacket and shoes, but she let out a little sigh of contentment when he lay down behind her and pulled her into his arms.

"Good night, Kate."

She smiled. "Mmm, g'night."

—

Castle woke up alone, but he knew enough now not to worry. He stretched lazily, before rolling off the bed and making his way downstairs in nothing but his boxers. He found Kate in the kitchen, standing in front of the coffee maker in his button down shirt from the day before.

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his body. She let out a little sigh and melted into his broad chest, letting him hold her, encompass her. "You look sexy in my shirts," he told her, pressing his lips to her neck.

"You're such a guy," she breathed, placing her hand on top of his arm where it rested low on her stomach.

He chuckled. "Sorry, but it's a total turn on."

"Too each his own. But wouldn't you rather have me naked?"

"Is that an offer?" he asked, feeling his body already begin to respond.

She turned in his arms and stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. "Feed me and you might have a deal."

"You got it," he said, already heading towards her fridge. "What do you have in here besides takeout? What about eggs? Everybody has eggs…"

She was just reaching into the cupboard to grab some saltines to tide her over when the doorbell rang. Castle pulled his head out of the fridge long enough to give her door a wary glance. "Who could that be?" he asked. "It's barely eight."

She shrugged and headed over to the front of her apartment, expecting an early bird solicitor or Jehovah's Witness. But what she found when she pulled open her door was neither of those things—it was her father.

"Dad!" she practically squeaked, feeling a blush bloom in her cheeks as he took in her slightly compromising state of undress.

"Morning, Katie," he greeted her and she didn't miss the obvious mirth dancing behind his smile. "I see you forgot about our breakfast date."

"I didn't forget, I just…Well, it…"

"Don't worry about it, honey," he said, stepping past her into the apartment. He looked over in Castle's direction who had turned away from the fridge and was now standing awkwardly by her toaster. "I can see you're _busy_."

"Dad, this is, um, this is Rick Castle, he, uh…"

"Is making breakfast?" Jim supplied helpfully, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Castle nodded. "Yeah, that's what I'm here for. It's really great to meet you, Mr. Beckett and I'd really like to shake your hand, but, um…I think I'm going to go put some pants on first."

Beckett, who had been standing beside her father feeling like a teenager caught making out with a boy, practically sprinted towards the steps after Castle. "I'm going to do the same," she announced.

"I'll be waiting," Jim called after them, before sitting down on the couch with a chuckle. "Ah, kids."

—

_Teehee. I love it. Next chapter will include a very entertaining conversation in which Kate shares some news with her dear, old Daddy-O. How will he take hearing about that little Caskett bun in the oven? Well, you're just going to have to read and find out. Also, review because that makes the writing happen faster! :)_


	9. Fear

_Again, sorry for the wait. This was another tough chapter to write. I had a plan to write a pretty fluffy bit about Beckett and Castle sharing the baby news with her father, but it morphed into something a lot different and a lot more angsty. So. Anyway. I hope you enjoy!_

—

Castle was already pulling on his pants when she walked into the bedroom. He turned towards her with a grimace that quickly faded into a look of disbelief when she started laughing. At him.

"Beckett!" he cried. "Do you realize how _horrible_ that was?

"Oh, c'mon, Castle," she said between bursts of giggling. "You of all people should be used to getting caught in compromising positions."

"But that was your _father_," he said. "Your dad. Your pop. The guy with the shotgun that he uses to protect his daughter's honor."

"Jeez, Castle, what reality are you living in? And besides, my dad doesn't even own a shotgun."

"But I like making good first impressions," he whined.

She smiled, closing the space between them and resting her hands on his still-bare chest. "My dad's a laid back guy. We'll have a good laugh about it and then we'll move on to a new topic."

"Right. A new topic. Like how I knocked you up?"

She made a face. "Well, I wouldn't phrase it exactly like _that_."

He sighed. "He's going to hate me."

"He'll love you."

He frowned, meeting her eye, true worry flickering in his gaze. "How do you know?"

She grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. "Because I love you."

He smiled and pulled her closer, sliding his hands down over her back and lower, slipping his fingers beneath of hem of her shirt. She shivered slightly at the touch, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck. He began to move backwards slowly, tugging her along with him, until the backs of his knees met the bed and he sat down. She settled herself between his legs, deepening the kiss, pressing up against him with pretty clear intentions.

He was the one that broke the kiss, pulling away and tucking her tousled hair behind her ear. "We should get dressed," he said, pressing light kisses to her forehead and nose and rosy-flushed cheeks.

"In a bit," she said, before proceeding to climb onto his lap.

"Kate, wait," he breathed, but without any real conviction.

She smiled at him as she locked her legs around his waist. When she shifted in his lap, pressing against him, he groaned helplessly and pulled her mouth back down to his.

"Your dad is going to shoot me," he murmured.

"Don't worry, Castle," she breathed. "I'll protect you."

—

Beckett made it downstairs first. Her dad had set up camp in the kitchen. Grocery bags were scattered across the counter and he already had three burners going. The smell was enough to make her mouth water and her stomach growl.

"Smells good," she commented, plopping onto a stool.

Her dad didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned down the heat under the pans and walked around the counter, looking at her with this knowing half-smile on his face that was completely fatherly and infuriating.

"So," he began. "Rick Castle."

She rolled her eyes. "Dad, don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked, all innocence. She rolled her eyes. He chuckled good naturedly, smiling at her. "Katie, I'm happy for you."

"Really?" she asked.

"Of course I am," he said. "You're practically glowing."

She nodded, feeling that now-familiar smile stretch across her face. "I love him, dad."

Jim reached out and rested his hand over hers where it lay on the counter. "I know, honey."

She dropped her eyes to the ground. "Dad, there's actually something else I have to tell you." She lifted her gaze back to his face. Felt her heartbeat quicken slightly, a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "I'm—"

"Hello, everybody!"

Both Becketts turned at the sound of Castle's cheerful greeting as he descended the steps. "Alright, now that I'm decent, I can introduce myself properly." He strode over to Jim, his hand outstretched. "It really is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"You as well, Rick," Jim said warmly. "And please, call me Jim."

"I will definitely do that," Castle agreed.

Jim smiled and gave a quick nod, before returning to his position behind the stove. "I hope you kids are hungry, 'cause I'm making the works."

"I love the works," Castle piped up. "And I know this one can eat up a storm," he added, hooking his thumb in Beckett's direction.

"Castle!" she cried, giving him a sound slap on the arm.

"Nothing wrong with a healthy appetite, honey," Jim said.

Castle nodded his agreement and leaned close to her, his lips at her ear. "Especially now, eating for two," he murmured quietly, for her ears only, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her stomach, making her shiver, even with the layer of fabric between them.

She smiled, pressed her lips to his cheek, and then moved away. "I am pretty hungry, dad," she admitted, peering at the food sizzling in the pans. "I want extra bacon. And don't forget to put lots of cheese in my eggs."

"Storm," Castle muttered. "Total hurricane."

Jim threw him a knowing wink. Kate just glared at him.

—

Unfortunately, Kate didn't get to enjoy her bacon and extra cheese for very long before the nausea hit. She silently handed Castle the towel she'd been using to dry dishes and slipped away. Castle watched her disappear in the direction of the bathroom with a frown, wanting to follow her, make sure she was okay, but knowing it would be a dead giveaway to her father.

He sighed and grabbed another dish, turning the towel in slow circles over the glass until it shone.

He'd give her five minutes; then he'd go make sure she was okay.

—

Kate groaned quietly as she slumped against the bathroom wall. So much for eating up a storm. She never wanted to eat again if this was how she was punished for it. She closed her eyes briefly, waiting for the churning in her stomach to subside, before standing and splashing cold water on her face. She brushed her teeth as well, savoring the clean, fresh taste of the mint.

She was about to head back out when she figured she'd pee while she was here. Another perk of being pregnant—a seemingly constant full bladder. She returned to the toilet and sat down.

She was distracted—still a little nauseous, rushing because she knew Castle would start to worry soon—and she almost didn't notice it. The blood. Just a few drops, but it was there. The crimson was startling against the white of her underwear.

She felt her heart still and her stomach climb back up towards her throat. She tried to breathe. She knew her best option was to stay calm, and _not _have a panic attack while sitting on the toilet. _Spotting_, her mind supplied suddenly. It was normal, wasn't it? Nothing to worry about? She tried to remember what her doctor had said at that first appointment. She'd been so distracted by Castle and her mother and falling in love with that small clump of cells making headway in her uterus.

She closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths. Grabbed a panty liner. Washed her hands. Went to the door and practically slammed into Castle on the way out.

"Hey," he murmured. "You okay?"

He lifted a hand to her cheek and her body stiffened. She felt…_terrified_. She knew she could tell him. _Should _tell him. She wanted to. But she couldn't. He would panic and insist she go to the hospital where they'd run tests or do an ultrasound and what if something was wrong and—

No. Nothing was wrong. She was fine. _They _were fine.

"Just morning sickness," she told him, smiling.

He kissed her softly. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine." She _was._

He kissed her again. All worry and goodness. It made her want to cry. "I'm still sorry."

—

Castle watched as Kate said goodbye to her father. Hugged him. Shut the door with a soft click. She gave him a brief smile as she passed him on her way to the kitchen, heading over to the fridge for a drink of water.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her. Something was wrong. He could feel it, even if he couldn't explain it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, following her into the kitchen.

She glanced at him. Her face was stoic and carefully veiled. "Nothing."

"You sure?" he prodded. He could see the walls coming up around her and he wanted to be on the right side, _her _side, when the last brick shifted into place.

"Yup," she practically chirped, sipping her water.

He nodded. "Okay."

He didn't believe her and she knew he didn't believe her. "So. When are you going to tell your dad about the baby?"

She shrugged. "Soon."

He took a step towards her. Her eyes shifted briefly to his face, unwelcoming, even a little nervous. He checked his movement. "Why didn't you tell him today? I thought we were going to."

She shrugged again. Her shoulders were stiff. Her mouth a firm, straight line. "I just…want to…wait a little."

"But why?" He tried smiling at her, hoping his excitement, his boyish impatience would cajole her out of whatever bad mood she'd slipped into. "I want to tell my mom, and Alexis. I'm excited. I just…want to share this with them."

"Castle," she sighed. She placed her glass on the countertop. The glass made a loud smacking sound as it made contact with the marble surface. "I think it's best if we wait."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

She frowned at him. Crossed her arms over her chest—a gesture of defiance, but also protection. "You're supposed to wait until the third month anyway. Just in case something happens."

"Something happens," he repeated, his face immediately darkening. "But nothing's going to happen. I mean, you're fine, right? You're okay and the baby's okay?"

She looked into his eyes. They were very bright and very blue, brimming with concern and love. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to tuck herself against him and close her eyes. He was sturdy and strong and he would hold her and tell her everything would be okay.

"Of course, Castle. Everything's fine."

Her smile was tight-lipped and false. Something was wrong. He watched as she turned and headed up the stairs to her bedroom. He heard the click of a closing door and knew she didn't want him to follow.

—

Kate sat in the middle of her bed and cried. She knew she looked pathetic. She felt pathetic.

She had sworn she'd never push him away again. She'd believed it, too, and look how long it had lasted. A few days. A honeymoon period. First sign of trouble and she already had him at arms length, locked away—literally and figuratively.

It was idiotic, really. Why was she even panicking? Spotting was totally normal. She was pretty sure. Or was that just for the first month? What about the second? She couldn't remember.

She glanced at the small stack of baby books on her bedside table. The information in those pages had the power to soothe every fear or crush every hope she had. She grabbed the first book, the classic _What to Expect_. She ran her fingers over the title, flipped through the pages without looking.

She stood up and went downstairs. She'd always been best at avoiding. Self-preservation. She was good at it. To a fault, most of the time.

Castle leapt up from the couch when she appeared. He was in front of her in three quick strides. "Kate," he breathed, taking in her face.

He looked so repentant, so eager to please. He didn't know what he'd done wrong and it made her throat ache. It made her hate herself.

"I'm gonna go to work," she said, looking everywhere but his face.

"I'll come."

"No," she said quickly—too quickly. "I just need to file some paperwork. You'd be bored."

"I don't mind."

"You'd distract me," she murmured, going for teasing, but sounding more annoyed than anything.

He nodded, his shoulders dropping. "Okay," he breathed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking ragged and confused as hell.

She made her way to the door. "I'll be back in a couple hours," she said off-handedly.

"You promise?"

She turned. Met his eye. "Promise," she lied.

—

She was sitting at her desk when she felt the first twinge. A brief stab of pain in her abdomen, gone almost instantly. She sat up in her chair. Her pen dropped unnoticed to the form she'd been filling out.

Probably nothing, she recited to herself, forcing herself to relax. If it happens again, I'll call Castle.

She took a deep breath and went back to writing, but her mind was only half on the page in front of her. She tried to focus, remember what she was doing—a brief description of the altercation with suspect—

There it was again. A quick throb, stronger this time, and then gone. She pressed a hand to her stomach. She was trembling. Her heart rate was soaring. She needed to calm down.

Could still be nothing. If it happened one more time, she'd call him.

She stood up and went into the break room. She picked up a mug and set it back down again. She didn't want coffee. She just…she wanted…

She wanted Castle.

She was just heading back to her desk when she felt another stab of pain flash across her lower stomach, white-hot and blinding in its intensity. She gasped out loud, doubling over, gripping the doorjamb to keep from sinking to the floor.

Distantly, she heard the muffled exclamations of concern around her. Ryan got to her first, Esposito close on his heels.

"Hey, Beckett? Are you okay?" Ryan asked, running a soothing hand down her back.

She wanted desperately to say yes. Stand up and get back to work like nothing was wrong. "No, I'm uh…" She swallowed, feeling the tears ache in her throat and burn in her eyes. "I think I need to go to the hospital."

—

Castle had never hated New York City as much as he did right then, sitting in midday traffic, still blocks away from the hospital. He didn't even know what was going on and it made him panic. He'd gotten a quick call from a breathless Esposito who had informed him that Kate was on her way to the hospital. The line had gone dead before Castle could ask any questions and now here he was, sandwiched between a Volvo and a moving van, trying his best to muffle the fear, the _terror_, that tightened in his chest, if only so he'd be able to maneuver through this ridiculous traffic and get to her.

He tapped the steering wheel, fiddled with the radio. Tried not to think about her or the baby or _anything_ really. His writer's mind was his worst enemy in moments like this, supplying all manner of worst-case scenarios. Had she been shot? Stabbed? Smashed over the head with a steel pole? He'd happily wish away every moment of book research if it meant these images racing through his head would go away.

He shouldn't have let her go to work alone.

After twenty minutes of agonizing standstill, the gridlock gave way. He slammed on the gas and began to weave through the swarm of cars and trucks, wincing at every near miss, ignoring the symphony of angry yells and honks he left in his wake.

He pulled up at the hospital forty minutes after he got the call, leaving his car in the loading zone. It would be towed, but he didn't even care at this point. He'd just buy a new one.

He sprinted through the emergency room doors and slammed to a halt at the front desk. "Katherine Beckett," he gasped out, his voice tight.

The receptionist looked up at him. She seemed to sense his desperation, because she immediately began to type. "Are you family?"

"I'm her husband," he said quickly and it didn't even taste like a lie.

"She was admitted about thirty minutes ago," she woman informed him. "She's in room 1594."

"Thank you," he breathed, already turning away and jogging down the hall.

He found the room quickly and stepped through the doorway, feeling the fear rise in his chest, because he really had no idea what he'd fine inside.

She was sitting on the edge of the exam table in a hospital gown, head down, hands folded in her lap. She looked up when he entered and his heart stilled at the sight of her pale face, her red-rimmed eyes still swimming with tears.

"Kate," he murmured, his voice choked. "What happened?"

—

_I know, I know. That was cruel. Sorry 'bout that, but I couldn't resist the cliffhanger. If you're not too mad at me for all the angst, I'd love a review or two! :) _


	10. Lucky

_A new chapter! I finalized this as quickly as I could. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging on that cliffhanger for too long. :)_

—

"Kate," he murmured, his voice choked. "What happened?"

She shook her head slightly and tried to swallow past the thickness in her throat. "I, um…" She didn't even know where to start.

He took a step towards her. He seemed unsure of how to approach her. She wished he would touch her. Any part of her. Grab her and crush her to his chest. "Are you okay?" he breathed.

His voice was heavy. He looked so afraid.

"I'm okay," she told him, grateful to be able to give him at least that one, concrete answer. "But, Castle—"

"The baby." His face was dark and shuttered, like she'd already told him _yes, we lost it_, like he was already mourning. "Oh, God, _Kate_—"

He moved closer, reaching for her, but she lifted a hand to stop him. Pressed her palm to his chest. His heart was beating wildly beneath her fingertips. She lifted her watery, blurry eyes to his. "We didn't lose it," she breathed. "It's fine."

Her words brought him instant relief. His face lifted with it, lightening, but her chest still felt tight, because they'd come so close, too close…

"Castle, I'm sorry," she said, breathless and rushed. Urgent. "I should've told you, I should've…" Her voice wobbled; her mouth puckered. She couldn't seem to stop crying. "I was so scared. This morning I…There was _blood_, Castle, and I…I didn't know what to do. I—"

She closed her mouth abruptly, scared of what she might say. She felt broken up, torn apart, and she didn't want too many things to fall through the cracks. She glanced at him briefly, afraid to hold his gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest. Pressed a hand over her eyes, wishing she could curl in on herself, disappear for a moment, but then he was right there, all around her, and there was no hiding.

He wrapped his strong arms around her trembling frame and he was so sturdy and warm and the feel of his body against her was almost too good. She gave in immediately. Pressed her face to his neck and cried, let herself weep, because he loved her so completely and she didn't deserve it.

"You're okay," he whispered, his lips at her ear. "You're okay now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

His voice was low and comforting and she was so desperately in love with him. She felt the tension begin to drift out of her tired body. Her shoulders drooped, her neck eased. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears drip down her cheeks and soak into the fabric of his shirt.

"I should've told you," she choked out, her breath catching. "I ran away."

"But you stopped. Came back. That's all that matters."

"But—"

"Kate, you can't expect yourself to change overnight. It's okay to get scared sometimes. It's okay to run. As long as you stop. Stand still long enough for me to catch up to you."

She smiled, secure in his arms, face pressed to his neck. "I think I can do that."

He let himself smile, too. He pressed his lips to her forehead and the soft, smooth skin at her temple. "I'm just glad you're okay," he told her. "Both of you."

—

"Dude, what if they're, like, having a moment," Ryan said, following Esposito as he hurried down the hallway towards Beckett's room.

Esposito threw him a look over his shoulder. "You think I care?"

"The doctor said she'd be alright," Ryan pointed out, but Esposito knew he wanted to see her just as much as he did. Look at her. _Know _she was okay. They were cops; they liked having proof.

"Castle got here like twenty minutes ago. We gave them time to do their…_thing_. She'll understand."

Ryan nodded, still looking uncertain, but also eager to see her. They reached her room and paused outside the door. Esposito peeked through the little window and grinned at the sight before him.

Beckett was lying on the hospital bed under the covers, turned on her side, eyes closed. Castle lay behind her, his body curled around hers, his hand splayed across her stomach protectively. His eyes were open, tired and relieved. They looked peaceful and Esposito was loath to disturb them.

He motioned for Ryan to come over and the other detective immediately sidled up close, peering through the window as well. "That's pretty adorable," he commented matter-of-factly.

Esposito nodded, smiling, before catching himself and taking a step away, puffing out his chest a little. "I mean, if you like that kind of thing," he muttered.

Ryan rolled his eyes indulgently—as if the guy was actually fooling anybody. Esposito, despite what he liked to think and say, was full of soft spots. Especially when it came to Beckett.

They stepped forward. Knocked on the door a couple of times.

Castle glanced up at the sound, then back at Beckett, who had barely stirred at the disruption. "Uh, come in!" he called, sitting up slightly as the door opened, smiling when he saw who it was. "Hey, guys," he greeted the detectives as they filed into the room.

"Hey, Castle," Ryan said. Esposito just gave him a quick nod, and then all three men turned to Beckett.

Castle had thought she'd fallen asleep, but now he saw that her eyes were open. He was relieved to see that green he loved so much, gold-flecked and bright, shining out at the world. The shadows were gradually lifting from her weary face. Castle slipped out of the bed as she sat up, crossing her legs and turning to face her little audience.

Ryan and Esposito still hovered uncertainly near the door and she threw them a reassuring smile. "Hey, guys."

Her voice was throaty and warm and it suddenly struck Castle how beautiful she was. Even now, sitting the middle of the little bed, with a certain weariness still lingering in her face and eyes, she was stunning. Not even the bland, whitewashed, hospital walls could detract from her loveliness.

"So," Esposito said, breaking the silence. "Castle knocked you up, huh?"

They all laughed and it was relieved sound. Castle watched as Kate bowed her head forward, a slight blush blooming in her cheeks. "Seems that way," she agreed, good-natured and game as always. She lifted her head and caught his eye, smiling. He winked at her, smiling too.

"It's about damn time," Esposito said. He looked like a grudgingly approving parent, standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, regarding Castle with slightly suspicious eyes. "You better not mess this up," he told him.

Castle just grinned. "I won't. And I know you'll find lots of creative ways to hurt me if I do, so you can save the macho, I'll-mess-you-up-bad talk."

"Damn right I'll find ways," Esposito confirmed, a little peeved at having his thunder stolen. "I've got my eye on you. If you hurt her, there will be pain, bro."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Alright, Espo. Calm down."

"I have to say, this is pretty awesome, you guys," Ryan said, cheerfully joining the conversation in the wake of his partner's death threats. "I mean, like, really awesome."

Esposito shot him a look. "You're just happy 'cause you won the bet."

"What bet?" Kate asked, narrowing her eyes at them.

Ryan dropped his eyes to the ground, looking immediately guilty. Esposito, on the other hand, was unfazed. "We had a pool going betting on when you and Writer Boy here would seal the deal."

"Seal the deal?" She sighed. "You guys are shameless, aren't you?"

Ryan shrugged. "Pretty much. Sorry, boss."

"So what was your guess, Ryan?" Castle asked, curious despite himself.

"The exact date was a couple months ago," Ryan said, shrugging.

"Not that it really matters," huffed Esposito. "Mister Romance over here guessed a date months earlier than anybody else."

"What can I say?" Ryan chirped, looking pleased. "I'm an optimist."

Esposito frowned. "Show off."

Ryan just grinned. Castle came over and shook his hand, giving him a friendly slap on the back. "Thanks for believing in us, my man."

"No problem."

Beckett was just about to ask how much money was actually invested in their hypothetical love life when a knock sounded on the door and the doctor stepped inside.

"We were just heading out," Esposito announced. "I'll see you guys later." He looked at Kate and Castle watched as his face softened with true concern. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Javi," Kate said softly.

The doctor stepped aside as the two men walked outside and disappeared around the corner. Kate sat up a little straighter on the bed. She reached a hand towards Castle and he immediately took it, stepping closer.

"Detective Beckett," he greeted her. "I've come to grant your freedom."

"You make it sound like prison," Castle said.

The doctor just shrugged non-committally and as Castle glanced around at the drab, depressing décor, the complete lack of color, he could see where the comparison would be an apt one.

"So everything's okay then?" Kate asked.

"Yup, you're fine," the doctor confirmed, smiling reassuringly. "It's always a good idea to come in with things like this, just to be sure. Based on the severity of your cramps and the slight spotting, I'm going to put you on bed rest for a couple days. Mostly as a precaution. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Absolutely," Castle agreed heartily. He'd tie Kate to a bed for the next seven months if he thought it would help.

"Thank you, doctor," Kate said, her voice soft.

The doctor gave a quick nod and went to leave. "You're very welcome."

Once he was gone, Castle turned to Kate and lifted a hand to her cheek. Leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. "I love you," he said simply.

"I love you, too," she breathed.

—

They were both quiet on the drive home. Beckett leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, letting the gentle ebb and flow of traffic and stoplights lull her. She was just hovering on the edge of sleep when Castle pulled up to his apartment.

"Stay with me?" he asked when he saw her gazing up at his building.

She turned towards him, nothing but sleepiness and quiet acceptance in her eyes. "Okay," she agreed.

He held her hand as they walked into the building and across the lobby. On the ride up in the elevator she leaned close to him, tucking herself into the side of his body. When she wasn't in heels she fit against him perfectly. He rested his cheek against her hair.

When he opened the door to his apartment, Alexis and Martha were both seated on stools in the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, darling," his mother greeted him, before giving Beckett a fond smile. "Detective—it's a surprise and pleasure to see you."

"Hi, Martha, Alexis," Kate said, smiling back, though he could see the exhaustion in her face.

He leaned close to her. "Wanna go lie down?"

She glanced up at him. Nodded gratefully. Then surprised the hell out of him by leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Tell them," she murmured.

"You sure?"

She smiled. "I'm sure."

He let go of her hand with one last squeeze and watched as she disappeared in the direction of his bedroom. When he turned back to his mother and daughter, they were both regarding with similarly stunned faces.

"Well, Richard, it seems you have some explaining to do," Martha said, but he could see she was pleased.

Alexis seemed to be as well, he noted with relief, as he made his way over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side for a quick, fierce hug. "I don't even know where to start."

Alexis rolled her eyes and gave him a look brimming with impatience. "You could start by telling us when exactly you and Detective Beckett started kissing each other."

Castle winced, because, actually, that was one of the hardest things to explain. "Um. About four months ago?"

Martha's jaw sagged a little at the answer and, despite himself, Castle felt a little pride in the fact that he was able to render his mother speechless. "Why didn't you tell us?" his daughter demanded.

"It was…_complicated_," he hedged uncertainly, wracking his brain for a tactful way to tell his daughter he'd basically been a booty call for three months. "We weren't exactly…defining anything."

Alexis just looked at him blankly, uncomprehending, but Martha seemed to catch on to his dilemma, because she came to his rescue. Kind of. "You know that movie _Friends With Benefits_?"

"Yeah," Alexis said. "Oh. _Ew._" She lifted a hand to stop any further explanations. "Spare me the details, please."

He chuckled. "Well, we're definitely more than just _friends _now." He paused. Felt the grin bloom on his face as he thought of Kate, lying in his bed, asleep. Kate, who would be the mother of his child. "I'm in love with her," he all but sighed, knowing he probably sounded like a pre-pubescent girl, but not really caring.

"Well, that's not exactly a news flash, dad," his daughter said, but she was kind of grinning too.

He nodded and glanced at his mother, who was watching him knowingly. He knew she'd been suspecting for a while that there was a little more to the story. "She's pregnant," he told them, his voice soft.

Alexis froze. "What?"

He turned to his daughter. "Kate is pregnant." He paused, took in her face. She didn't look mad, just a little overwhelmed. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

She swallowed. Nodded slightly. "Yeah, I…I think I am."

"You know this isn't going to change anything about our relationship, right?" he said. "You'll always be my little girl."

She smiled, her face softening. "I know, dad. Anyway, I've always wanted a sibling. And Kate is wonderful, really." She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm happy for you guys."

Castle held his daughter—his kind, beautiful, practically grownup daughter and willed himself not to cry, because this was just…so good. Too good. How could he have gotten so lucky? "I love you," he told her.

"I love you, too," she said.

His mother had been keeping quiet, but now she burst out, her voice brimming with emotion, her arms open wide. "Oh, Richard!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a smothering hug. "I'm so glad this all worked out. I had a feeling it would."

"Of course you did, mother," Castle said.

"You are a lucky man," she told him. "And Kate is a lucky woman."

He nodded, his face brightening, opening up at the mention of her name. He wanted to go to her. "I'm going to go check on her."

"Go, go!" Martha agreed, shooing him away.

He smiled at the two of them, his heart so full, so grateful, it almost ached. Then he turned and headed into the bedroom to find Kate.

—

_So the baby is fine! Yay! I could never actually bring myself to make Beckett have a miscarriage. Way too sad. I apologize to anyone who was freaking out. _

_ Let me know what you thought of the scenes with Ryan and Esposito, and Martha and Alexis. I always find group scenes like that a little tricky to write, so I'd love to hear what you guys thought!_


	11. Wrench

_Here's another chapter for your reading pleasure, finally. Sorry for the long delay. Everything I wrote didn't feel right, but then I had a breakthrough, and it was awesome and then I wrote this in like half a day! So, here ya go._

—

She was sound asleep when he walked into the bedroom. Lying on her side, her long, auburn hair spread across his pillow case—she'd never looked more beautiful. He couldn't resist the urge to slip off his shoes and jacket and climb into bed with her. He curled his body around hers from behind. Draped an arm across her waist and tugged her back against his chest. She stirred slightly, let out a soft sigh, but didn't wake up.

He nestled closer, realizing how much he needed this—to hold her in his arms, feel her breathing. To _know_ she was okay. He pressed his face to the curve of her neck. Inhaled her fruity scent. _Cherries._ Their bodies were close enough that he could feel her ribcage expand against his chest as she breathed.

He kissed her shoulder and let out a shaky breath, his chest too tight, feeling almost desperate with how much he loved her. He thought of her face when he'd first walked into the hospital room, the way his heart had stilled, because he'd thought they'd lost it—this unlikely, wonderful, burgeoning life they'd made together. The words had been on his lips—_I'm sorry, Kate, I'm so sorry—_the tears already pooling in his eyes, because, _god, _he loved her and she didn't deserve any more loss.

He kissed her shoulder again and her neck and the soft spot just behind her ear. She stirred again, waking up slightly, and he immediately felt guilty for his lack of restraint, for his complete inability to _not _kiss her when she was lying in his arms, looking like the most beautiful thing on the planet.

"Mmm, Castle?" she hummed, smoothing her hand down the arm that was slung across her hips.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay," she murmured, pressing back against him, turning her head into the kiss he pressed to her jaw.

"Go back to sleep," he told her.

She nodded slowly, sleepily. "Okay."

"Kate?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Mmm." She smiled. "Love you, too."

—

She woke up to a slight ache in her abdomen. The doctor had said that would be normal for a couple of days, but it was still unsettling. She told herself it was just the muscles in her abdomen relaxing, easing, after being clenched in pain for so many hours, the same soreness that came after an intense workout.

She turned onto her back and glanced at Castle's side of the bed, wondering where he was. She debated getting up and looking for him. Maybe drawing a bath in the hopes the warm water would help with the ache in her stomach. But she was still tired and before long her eyelids were drooping again.

She was just beginning to doze when the bedroom door opened and Castle came in, holding something in his hand. It took her a second to recognize what it was, but when she did, she smiled, practically sighing in appreciation.

"How'd you know?" she asked.

He grinned proudly and walked over to the bed, hot water bottle in hand. "The doctor said you might be a little achy, so I just thought…" He trailed off. Shrugged a little self-consciously, looking suddenly unsure and incredibly cute.

"You did good," she said.

He shrugged. "I try."

She smiled up at him as he stood beside her and reached out, pressing his palm against her abdomen. The pressure and the warmth felt wonderful, soothing, and she closed her eyes, resting her hand on top of his to keep it in place.

"Feel good?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice soft. "Thank you."

"Here," he murmured, climbing onto the bed and reclaiming his spot curled up behind her. He pressed the hot water bottle to her stomach. Combined with the pressure of his hand, it felt amazing, and she immediately relaxed against him, the tension draining from her body.

"How did it go with Martha and Alexis?" she asked.

"It went really well," he told her. "They were both happy."

"Even Alexis?"

"Yeah, she said she was excited."

Kate nodded, but he knew even without looking at her face that there was something she wanted to say. "Castle, just…"

"What is it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She let out a long breath. "Just don't be surprised if it's not…as easy as that."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed again and he didn't know if she was frustrated with him or herself or something else. "She might not be as okay with it as she's telling you."

"Alexis?" he asked, kind of inanely, but only because he was surprised Kate would question his daughter's acceptance of her. "Kate, I think she's fine. She seemed genuinely happy. Surprised, yeah, but happy."

Kate nodded again. Craned her head back so she could see his face. "Just…tread lightly, okay, Castle?"

"Okay," he said, "I will," but it was really just to appease her. He couldn't imagine his daughter having trouble with what was happening. Sure, it was a lot of information to take in all at once, but she'd said she was okay and he didn't have any reason not to believe her.

—

When he opened his eyes, he found her already awake. Her eyes were light with morning, her hair tousled. She was smiling at him. The curve of her lips was soft, almost hesitant. Philosophical, he thought, as he watched the way she was watching him. Like she could see the future written on his face.

"Morning," he said, shifting closer.

He ran his hand down her spine. Pressed his palm to the small of her back and pulled her closer. She moved into his body without question, draping her leg across his hip, her hands splayed against his chest.

"Mmm, morning," she murmured, bowing her head into his touch when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"You're so beautiful," he told her.

She didn't say anything, but he could see the tinge of pink in her cheeks, the way her eyelids fluttered close, the pleased curve of her lips.

She was incredible. She'd always astounded him, left him slack-jawed and wide-eyed in her wake, but ever since she got pregnant…She was creating life—she was growing a whole new person inside her and it kind of floored him, because it was _her_, Beckett, Kate, his partner, the woman he loved, and she had chosen _him_ and they were doing this together_. _

"You still tired?" he asked, catching sight of the low digits of the clock over her shoulder. She nodded. Shifted closer. He rolled onto his back and slipped an arm around her. Guided her head to his chest. Felt her body all along the length of his.

"Sleep," he told her.

And so she did.

—

He was watching the late morning news when she finally emerged from the bedroom. She'd stolen his clothes—sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He stared at her appreciatively, feeling a warm sweep of arousal spread through him at seeing her in his clothes.

"You're supposed to be on bed rest," he said.

She didn't say anything, just gave him a look, rolled her eyes a bit, but it lacked its usual disapproving edge.

"You okay?" he asked, frowning. She shrugged non-committally and held his eye as she walked over to where he was lounging in a big, leather armchair and sat on his lap. He gave her a startled, happy look and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You never let me do this," he said.

She sighed and pressed a palm to his chest, right over his heart. "I just…" She trailed off. Shook her head. "Just hold me, Castle," she told him, her voice breathy and lilting.

He looked down at her face, wanting to see her eyes, but they were closed. The request was so unlike her that it made him uneasy, made him worry.

"Hey," he murmured, cradling her close, pressing a light kiss to her forehead and nose, "you okay?"

She nodded, her breath hitching slightly. He realized with a pang that she was close to tears. "_Kate,_" he breathed. He held her tighter, wishing she would talk to him, tell him where this sudden, quiet grief was coming from.

But a part of him knew, or could at least guess. She was scared. Rattled. Because it wasn't just her life on the line anymore and she wasn't a superhero and she'd come so close to losing this new life that he knew she'd fallen in love with.

She was realizing she had weaknesses. Realizing how breakable her heart really was.

—

Castle was sitting at his desk writing when his daughter knocked on the door and pocked her head inside his study.

"Hey, pumpkin," he greeted her, eyes flicking from the screen to her face and back again. He just wanted to finish this scene, didn't want to stop in case he lost his train of thought.

Alexis waited patiently until he finished typing and shut his laptop. Gave her his full attention. "Kate it asleep on the couch," she said.

"Oh, yeah, she fell asleep earlier and I figured—"

"Is she moving in?"

Castle frowned at the abrupt question, the passive, coldly serene look on his daughter's face. "Not yet," he told her, the most honest response he could think of.

"Yet," Alexis echoed. "Okay."

Castle stood up from his chair and rounded his desk. Alexis looked away as he got closer. Crossed her arms over her chest. "Sweetie, is everything okay?"

"It's just…" She trailed off. Shook her head. "It's just really fast. I mean, one minute you're shadowing her and running after her like a lovesick puppy and the next she's pregnant and you're in love and—"

She stopped abruptly. Clamped her mouth shut. He could tell she was a little disgusted with how petty she sounded, but that the situation was also really bothering her. "I know it's fast, honey. But even though it's not the most conventional situation in the world, I _do _love her and she loves me and we're doing this together."

"Are you sure she loves you?" she asked. "What if she hurts you, dad. Breaks your heart. Leaves and takes your kid with you—"

"_Alexis_."

His daughter startled at his tone, the sharp staccato of her name on his tongue. "Alexis, this is the woman I love. The woman who is carrying my child. You don't have to be completely okay with the situation, but you do need to be respectful to me and to Kate."

She nodded, looking repentant. "I know," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"What happened since yesterday?" he asked, his voice gentler now, genuinely curious. "You seemed so okay with everything."

"I know, but this morning I woke up and I just…" She swallowed, looking guilty, but also deeply confused. "So much is changing. I don't know how to feel. And I don't want you to get hurt."

He nodded, realizing now exactly why Kate had warned him. He appreciated her for the foresight he'd lacked. He loved Alexis, but he'd treated her like an adult when he shouldn't have.

"I know you don't, sweetheart," he murmured. He pulled her into his arms and she pressed her face against his chest. "I think I really messed up."

"Dad, I—"

"No, Alexis, I did. I made a mistake. You're growing up so fast that sometimes I forget you're still my daughter, still my little girl, and I need to protect you." He pulled back. Met her eye. "Try not to worry about me. As the daughter, your only job is to worry about you. I'll be fine."

"It's not that I don't like Kate—"

"I know. I understand. It's just a lot to accept all at once. It'll take time and that's okay."

"Yeah," she breathed out, relaxing into the relief of being understood. "Yeah, it's just a lot." She smiled. Leaned back into his embrace. "Thanks, Dad."

—

Kate woke up to the sound of voices. Raised voices, coming from Castle's study. She immediately recognized the deep rumbling of Castle's voice and quickly deduced that the higher, lighter voice was Alexis. They were arguing. About her, she realized after a few moments of inadvertent eavesdropping.

She swung her legs over the edge of the couch and stood, torn between running away and staying to listen. Alexis sounded upset. And Castle…Castle sounded stern.

Despite herself, she took a couple steps towards the study door, the voices ringing clearer as she drew closer.

"I _do _love her," she heard him say, muffled slightly through the open bookshelves. "And we're doing this together."

There was a slight pause, before Alexis picked up, her voice uncharacteristically hard. "Are you sure she loves you?"

Kate sucked in a sharp breath. Shit. Shit. That _hurt. _And what followed didn't help the sharp twist of guilt and fear and uncertainty deep in her chest.

"What if she hurts you, dad. Breaks your heart. Leaves and takes your kid with you—"

"_Alexis_."

Now he was angry, Kate could tell. Beyond angry. He was pissed off and yelling at his daughter and it was all her fault.

She took a step away from the door to the study, almost tripped over herself in her haste to get to the front door. She'd messed up everything. Threw a wrench in Castle's life, screwed things up with his daughter.

She'd known it might be difficult for Alexis to accept her into her father's life, but she hadn't realized…hadn't thought…

The problem was the girl's worries were completely spot on, brutally astute. What if she did break his heart? She loved him. She did. So much. But she knew the way she was. She was good at running. At hiding. At pushing him away. Who knew what might spook her next? It was one thing to ask Castle to be patient, but it was another to ask the same of his daughter. Of his mother.

She'd break her own heart a thousand times over before she came between Castle and his family.

—

When he stepped out of his study into the living room and found her gone, the throw blanket twisted haphazardly on the couch, he knew with a sickening kind of clarity that she was gone.

He grabbed his cell phone, not really expecting her to answer, so when she picked up on the first ring, he almost dropped it in his relief. "Kate," he said into the phone. "Where are you? I'll come get you. I know you heard Alexis, but I just…If we could just _talk_—"

"It's okay, Castle," she said, cutting him off. She sounded weary. "My dad picked me up. I'm going to stay with him for a while."

"But…but you're supposed to be on bed rest," he said and then immediately wanted to slap himself. Bed rest? She was leaving and the best he could come up with was bed rest?

She sighed, sounding disappointed, or maybe just resigned. "I took the elevator, Castle. Barely walked twenty yards, probably, so you don't have to worry about the baby. There are beds at my dad's place that'll do just fine."

"But I want you in mine," he told her. "Please, come back, Kate. Everything will be okay, just—"

"No, Castle, I shouldn't be there. It's better for Alexis if I'm not."

"But it's not better for _me_."

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the people we love."

"Kate, I'm not giving you up, okay? I'm not going to let you make this decision on your own." He paused. Pressed his cheek harder into the phone as if that would bring her closer. "I want you, Kate. I want all of you, everyday, with me. I want to take care of you. Please, just come back and we'll work it out. Alexis will come around. She will."

She was silent for a long time. He could hear car horns in the background, city streets, and closer was the sound of her breath, ragged and torn apart. "I'm sorry, Castle," she whispered, and then she hung up.

—

_Okay, so I didn't really mean to leave it on another angsty, cliffhangery-type ending, but then I realized that even though Alexis is portrayed as this amazing, mature, all-around perfect and wonderful daughter, she would of course be upset by the bomb Castle dropped on her last chapter. Any kid would be. But being the awesome girl she is, she'll come around pretty quickly. The question is: has the damage already been done?_


	12. Wait

Jim Beckett watched from the corner of his eye as his daughter crumpled in the passenger seat of his car, phone pressed to her tear-streaked cheek. "I'm sorry, Castle," she breathed.

Her hand fell away from her face, dropping into her lap. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. She drew in a deep breath that hitched in the middle and let it out. Pressed her lips together. Brushed trembling fingers across her damp cheeks.

"So," he began, his voice quiet and gentle, "a baby, huh?"

He stopped at a red light and turned to look at her. She met his eyes unflinchingly and seeing the heartbreak straight on, bare and raw in her dark green eyes, made his chest ache, made something twist in his heart. "Oh, honey," he murmured, reaching across the console to take her hand.

She latched onto it, her fingers tight around his. She was trying so hard not to fall apart, resisting with every fiber of her being. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she said quietly.

"That's okay," he told her, stepping on the gas when the light flicked to green.

"It's Castle's," she murmured. "It's kind of the reason—"

She stopped herself before she could say it was the reason they got together. Because that wasn't true, was it? It was so much more than that. It had always been so much more than that. Getting pregnant had simply forced her to see a truth she'd been hiding from for months. Maybe even years.

"His daughter isn't happy," she said instead. She needed to focus on the reasons she was leaving, not the reasons she was there in the first place.

Her father nodded slowly. He was always so deliberate with his words. She loved that about him, especially in moments like this when she felt as if she might fly apart at the seams. "That's to be expected," he said.

"It is," she agreed. "But it's more than that. It's—"

She swallowed hard, closed her eyes briefly. "The things she said, Dad…They were so…"

"So what?" he urged gently.

"So true," she admitted, feeling the tears rise and spill over, slipping silently down her cheeks. "What if I hurt him?"

Jim took a long, deep breath. "You really want to know what I think?" Kate nodded. "I think you're hurting him more now, by leaving without even giving him a chance to change your mind."

"But what good would it do, Dad?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly. "So—what? He talks me into staying and then a few months later I get scared and run away and then where are we?"

"You're in love with him, Katie," he murmured.

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to cry anymore. "So?"

"So _that_. Sweetie, that's all there is."

"But what if I…what if I can't do it?"

"You can," he said, his voice steady and sure.

She shook her head. Turned her head to look out the window. "I wish I could believe that."

—

"Where's Kate?"

Castle lifted his head at his mother's voice. "Gone," he said, surprised at how slowly the word came to him, rising through the pleasant haze of his scotch-addled brain. He was more drunk than he'd thought.

"Why?"

"She heard 'Lexis talking, or…or I guess yelling." He paused. "Shouting. _Bellowing._ Hm, good word." He took another long gulp of alcohol. It didn't even burn as it slid down his throat. Yep, definitely drunk.

"Richard," his mother said, a hint of reprimand lacing her voice. "Pull it together. What exactly did Alexis _bellow _about?"

"It's too fast," he said, trying to focus on his mother's face as it swam before his eyes. "Too, too fast. Lovesick puppy to baby daddy. Far too speedy."

"Oh, dear," she said, frowning. "And Kate heard all this, I presume?"

Castle nodded, his head bobbing low. "She heard. Now she's gone."

"Gone," Martha repeated. "Just like that."

"Just. Like. That," he said, punctuating the statement with another gulp of scotch, finishing off the glass.

He stood from his desk and reached for the bottle, but Martha took it before he could get his uncoordinated hands on it. "Hey," he whined. "I need that."

"No, you don't," she informed him coolly. "You've had quite enough. I think it's time for bed now."

"Bed," he repeated. "Kate's on bed rest, you know. Because of the baby. _Our _baby."

"Yes, I know, dear."

"Do you think I'll ever get to see her?"

"Kate?" his mother asked as she guided him into his bedroom.

"No," Castle said, sounding deeply sad. "The baby."

"I think you two kids love each other and I think you'll work it out."

He sighed and flopped back onto his bed, looking drunk and heartbroken. "Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the people you love."

"Yes, that's true," she agreed. "But sometimes everything works out in the end."

Castle sighed again, his eyelids fluttering shut. "I wish I could believe that."

—

At the sound of her father's footsteps in the hallway, Kate sat up in bed, drawing the covers around her body. He appeared a moment later, a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of dry toast in the other.

"I didn't know if you've been getting morning sickness, but I thought I'd play it safe," he explained as he handed her the toast.

Kate smiled wryly, accepting the plate. "The sickness isn't really relegated to any particular time of day."

Her father nodded knowingly and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It was like that with your mother. It would hit her at random times during the day. It drove her crazy."

"Yeah, it's pretty annoying. Happened to me in the middle of an interrogation once," Kate said, smiling at the memory. "I almost threw up on the suspect."

Jim laughed. "That's one way to get 'em to talk."

She snorted. "True. Maybe a little messy, but probably effective."

She lifted the tea in her hand. "Decaf?" she asked. He nodded and she took a long sip, feeling the liquid warm her from the inside out. "Thanks, Dad," she breathed, leaning forward to press her forehead against his shoulder.

"You're welcome," he replied, kissing the top of her head lightly. "You going to call him?"

She shook her head. "No, I…I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because if I hear his voice, I'll ask him to come. And if I ask him to come, he'll be here without hesitation, no questions asked."

"And that's a bad thing?"

She nodded. "You know what you said before? About me being able to do this?"

"Yes."

She let out a long breath. "I need to believe that before I go back to him."

—

Castle woke up to a splitting headache.

He groaned and turned on his side, stretching his arm across the cool, empty sheets and for a split second—for one, halting moment—he forgot. He wondered if Kate had gotten up early to take a shower or make coffee and then it hit him.

She was gone.

It took his breath away all over again.

He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His mouth was dry, but his body felt too heavy to get up and get a glass of water. So he just lay there. Let himself wallow for a few minutes.

_Gone. _The word echoed in his head, stirred behind his eyes like the remnants of a bad dream. She'd left. Run away. A part of him was pissed at her presumption, at the fact that she'd made the decision without a backward glance, without even a conversation to explain why she was walking out his front door.

He could've talked her out of it. If she'd just looked at him, listened to him, she would've seen. They could make it work. His daughter was confused, but she wasn't a bad person. She'd come around. He believed that.

Kate was a different matter. She was running scared. A part of him realized that—understood that it was more than his daughter's disapproval that was making her balk. She didn't believe in herself. She didn't trust in her ability to be good enough for him and for his family, to love him and stay and not get scared.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He would've spent his whole life showing her how worthy she was. She deserved it all—every good thing in the world and more. He saw it. If only he could make her see it too.

—

"I almost lost the baby."

Jim looked up from his book and regarded his daughter carefully. She was sitting at the opposite end of the couch from him, knees tucked up under her body, a blanket draped across her lap.

She bit her lip and looked away from him. "A couple days ago I started bleeding and then got really bad cramps…" She trailed off and he could see the way her face twisted at the memory, the way she curled just a little tighter around herself, one hand resting firmly on her stomach.

"It's fine. The doctor said everything was okay, but I have to take it easy for a few days. No work. Bed rest."

Jim nodded thoughtfully to show he was listening, but didn't say anything. He could sense there was more she wanted to say.

She dropped her eyes to her lap, fingers fiddling idly with hem of the blanket. "Do you think…do you think I should quit my job?"

"Quit?" he echoed, mulling the word. "Do you want to?"

She hesitated and he could see the deep confliction that shadowed her face, sharpened her gaze. "I…I love my job, but…" She trailed off. "It's not just my life anymore, you know?"

"Well, I'm sure you'll be put on desk duty pretty soon until you have the baby…"

"No, of course," she agreed. "But what about…what about after that?" She swallowed and breathed through the grief that suddenly swamped her chest, tried to keep her voice steady. "I don't want my child to go through what I went through."

And that was it, wasn't it? The thing that shadowed her life, made her shy away from the idea of kids even when she saw mothers and daughters and that empty space inside her ached, even when she fell in love with Castle and saw him being a father and loved him all the more for it.

She didn't want to let her mother down and she didn't want her child to be broken in the same ways she was, to be missing someone for all the days of her life.

"Oh, honey," her father murmured, sliding across the couch so that he could take her hand. "Having a child is a wonderful thing. It fills your life to the brim. But it can't be all you have."

"Did mom ever think about quitting her job when she had me?"

Her father nodded. "She almost did. She was hell-bent on it, actually. But I wouldn't let her. I knew that job fed her in ways that I never could, that even a baby never could."

"Does it…" She paused. Lifted tearful eyes to his face. "Does it make me a bad mother that I need more?"

"The fact that you asked that question shows me what a fantastic mother you'll be," he told her, his voice sincere and wise in a way that eased her heart, chased away some of the demons. "That child will be so loved it won't know what to do with itself."

She laughed, a little breathless, a little teary. "Thank you, dad."

She leaned into him then and let him hug her and her mind drifted to Castle, because she couldn't help it, because to be the person she wanted to be, she also needed him.

—

It was the middle of the night when his phone rang. The headache had faded and without the pain he was left with nothing. Emptiness. Loneliness. Smooth covers on the bed where she should've been.

He picked up the phone without thinking, didn't even look at the screen. "Hello?" he muttered, not really caring who it was, only wanting her.

"Castle."

He sat up in bed. Her voice was soft, a little hoarse with sleep or tears or both. "_Kate_," he breathed, cradling the phone against his cheek like it was something precious.

"I'm sorry it's late."

He shook his head even though she couldn't see him. "No, it's okay. It's okay that it's late. Are you…" He paused. He didn't want to scare her off, but he had to know. "Are you okay?"

There was a beat of silence before her voice returned. "I can't sleep," she admitted.

"Me neither," he told her. "I miss you."

"_Castle_—"

"Come back," he said, before she could argue. "Just…_come back._ We'll work everything out."

"No, Castle," she murmured, full of grief but still firm. "Not yet. I need to figure some things out before I can…do that."

"Do what?"

"Any of it," she said. "All of it. Come back. Be with you. Sit down with your daughter and promise I'll never break your heart."

"She knows you won't."

"But _I_ don't know that I won't."

He sighed at that, feeling helpless and out-of-control and frustrated that there was _nothing_ he could to change her mind. "What am I supposed to do with that, Kate?" he asked.

She closed her eyes against the heartbreak in his voice, the bone-deep weariness. What had she done to them?

"I shouldn't have called," she breathed, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. "I should go."

"No, wait," he said. "Don't hang up. Just…"

She pressed a hand over her eyes. Swallowed back the tears. "Just what?"

"Why did you call me?"

"I wanted to hear your voice."

The words were out before she could keep them in and she immediately regretted it. She was torturing him, she knew. She was torturing herself, too. "Castle, I—"

"I thought I had you," he said, the words tripping from his mouth like a confession. "I thought I finally had you. I thought we'd finally figured it out." He paused. Sucked in a harsh, hiccupping breath. "I love you, Kate. God, I'm so in love with you—"

"Please, Castle, don't." She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Let out a breath that came out as a sob. "I want to be better for you. For us. For our baby."

"But, Kate—"

"No, Castle, don't argue with me. Please. I want it all. I want everything. With you."

"Then what are you doing? Why aren't you here? Come back and we'll—"

"_Castle_."

He closed his mouth. Forced himself to. She needed this, he realized now, and there was nothing he could do to change her mind.

"Wait for me?" she whispered, her voice coming out thready and vulnerable and pleading. She had no right to ask him and yet here she was.

There was barely even a pause, barely even a breath and then—

"Always."

—

_ Alas, more angst. This story never ceases to surprise me with the places it ends up, but I'm having fun with it. Hope you are to. :) _


	13. Believe

Kate stepped out of the stall in the precinct bathroom and walked over to the sink. She ran the water, sloshing some in her mouth and swishing it around, before straightening and regarding herself in the mirror tiredly.

The morning sickness had been hitting her hard the past few days. Eleven weeks along and instead of a thickening waistline and a happy glow, she looked absolutely wasted away. She'd lost a few pounds. Her face was pale and drawn. She couldn't keep anything in her stomach.

And she missed Castle. There was that, too.

She had no idea what she was doing. Leaving had seemed so _right _at the time, but now she could barely grab a hold of that feeling, that fire of _I have to do this_. She could barely even think straight anymore. She felt muddled and sick and _god_ she just _missed _him.

What was she thinking?

"Detective Beckett?"

Kate whirled at the sound of her name, tried to gather her features, hide her exhaustion, the bone-deep weariness, so that she would appear professional for—

"Alexis?" Her voice came out high with surprise. She took a step towards the girl. "What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is your father—"

"Everyone's fine," Alexis jumped in hastily, regarding Kate with an unreadable expression.

Her brow was furrowed, her lips a thin straight line, but the soft spark in her eye made her look almost…apologetic. But that couldn't be right because Alexis didn't like her and she'd walked out, left Castle and—

"Can we talk?" Alexis asked and Kate suddenly remembered where they were.

"Of course," Kate said hastily. "Let's go to my desk."

She walked past Alexis and pushed through the bathroom door, leading the way to her desk that was covered with paperwork. Week-old paperwork that she still hadn't gotten through because she wasn't sleeping, or eating, and the food she did eat didn't stay down long.

She sat down slowly, monitoring the roiling in her empty stomach. There was nothing left, but that didn't do much to curb the almost constant nausea.

She watched Castle's daughter sit down carefully in the seat that Castle should've been in, that he hadn't sat in for days. It made her stomach clench on top of everything else.

"So," Kate began uncertainly. "What can I do for you?"

Alexis drew in a long breath. She glanced at Kate's face and then away. Kate could tell she was trying to work up her courage. "I, um…Well, first, I-I wanted to apologize. I know you heard me and my dad talking the other day and I—"

"Alexis, you don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I made you leave—"

"_No_," Kate said, surprising herself with the vehemence behind that one word. "I left all on my own. That was my decision."

"But if I hadn't said those things…"

"I would've left anyway. Maybe not right then, but…" Kate trailed off, looked away from Alexis, sudden realization dawning on her, working its way through her foggy brain. "I was looking for a reason to leave," she murmured, almost to herself, horrified and strangely relieved by the truth of the statement. "You gave me one and it was…it was…"

"What?" Alexis asked.

"It was cowardly," Kate said, the word escaping her on a repentant breath. "I told myself I was doing the honorable thing when really I was just…"

"Running away?"

Kate lifted her eyes, her gaze locking with Alexis' and this time the girl, the young woman, didn't look away. "Yes," she agreed. "I was running away." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I was scared."

Alexis was quiet for a minute, her look almost inquisitive. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to…try not to be scared anymore."

"Easier said than done." She smiled encouragingly, good-naturedly, looking so much like her father in that moment that it made the missing and the want throb painfully in Kate's chest.

"I'll do it," she said, nodding. "I have to. For Castle—for your father." She paused and leaned forward slightly. "I _do _love him, Alexis. More than…more than anything."

"I know," Alexis said, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. "I could see it and I could see how much my dad loves you and I…I just don't want him to get _hurt_."

"I don't want to hurt him," Kate said.

Alexis raised her eyebrows slightly, pursed her lips, her eyes filling with a look that said, _You already have_.

Kate felt herself crumple a little, embarrassed to find she was close to tears. She was exhausted, warn thin, and she kind of hated herself. She said she didn't want to hurt him and yet that seemed to be all she could do.

"He'll wait for you," Alexis said suddenly. "He'll wait forever." She paused and Kate was relieved to see the hint of a smile at the edges of her mouth. "Just maybe…don't make him wait too much longer?"

"I won't," Kate promised, so happy to be able to promise it. She could stop being scared, she could. For Castle. For his daughter.

For herself.

Alexis nodded approvingly and gathered up her bag, stood up to go. "Good."

Kate smiled, wider than she had in days. "So…good talk?"

The younger woman laughed, flashed a grin. "Yeah. Good talk."

—

She called him on her way to his apartment, couldn't wait. He picked up almost immediately.

"Kate?" His voice sounded light, hopeful, and she wondered how much of their conversation Alexis had shared with him.

"Yeah," she said, feeling breathless. "I'm on my way to you."

"To the loft?"

"That's where you are, right?"

He laughed softly and she loved the sound, let it fill her, let it push out the fear that still lingered around the edges, making her nerves buzz and hum. "Yeah, I'm here," he confirmed. "Waiting."

"Not for much longer," she said. "I'm a couple blocks away."

"I'm coming down to meet you," he said and she could tell he was already heading down the stairs from the way his breath puffed through the phone.

"Castle, you don't have to—"

"I see your car," he said, sounding boyish and a little beside himself with excitement.

"I see you," she said.

He was standing on the sidewalk in front of his building, grinning, practically hopping up and down in anticipation. She felt the laughter bubble up in her, let it flow out, because it was impossible to be scared when he was looking at her like that.

She pulled up to the curb, parked illegally in front of a fire hydrant, and got out of the car. He had his arms around her before she could even close her door. He hauled her up against his body, squeezing her too tightly and not tightly enough.

She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get close enough.

"Castle," she breathed. Tucked her face into his neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled so good and familiar, like home, and she wanted to cry, because she'd hurt him and yet here he was holding her like she was precious, like she was perfect.

He was so patient and forgiving in the face of her mistakes, her cowardly heart. "Castle, I'm sorry," she murmured, kissing his neck and the underside of his jaw. "I'm so sorry."

"Kate, you don't have to—"

"Yes," she whispered raggedly, half-crying in her desperation for him to see, to understand. "Yes, I do. I'm sorry I hurt you, Castle. I'm sorry I proved your daughter right. I'm sorry for leaving you, for running away."

He pulled back just enough to press a finger to her mouth, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "Stop, Kate. It's okay. I'm not angry."

"But you should be," she said fiercely, blinking away the tears burning in her eyes. "You should be furious."

"But I'm not," he told her, insistent. "You weren't hurting me on purpose. You just weren't ready yet."

She shook her head, her lips trembling. "I still might not be," she admitted and his eyes did darken at that, his face tightening, but still not with anger, with fear—fear of losing her. But no, she wouldn't do that again, wouldn't put more cracks in his too-trusting heart. "But…but I'm trying. I'm trying, Castle, and I'll get ready."

She leaned into him, her hands curling into fists against his chest. Kissed him hard, feeling the days apart morph from longing into pure, immediate want.

"I don't want to be apart from you anymore," she whispered, breaking the kiss just long enough to get the words out, her face still hovering close to his.

He nodded and dragged her closer. She lifted into the kiss, arms curling around his neck, and groaned softly at the broad press of his chest against hers, the drag of his tongue across her lips.

"Come inside with me," he breathed raggedly.

She nodded, forced herself to step away from him. She took his hand and walked ahead of him into the lobby, turned to face him and backed into the elevator.

He crowded her against the back wall as the doors slid shut, bowing his head and trailing a line of wet kisses up the column of her neck, mouth landing behind her ear. She sighed softly, the sound trailing off into a whimper when he pressed closer, bumping his hips into hers.

"I can't promise I won't get scared again," she told him, her voice sounding sudden and too loud in the small space. But he needed to hear this. Needed to understand before she let him take her back into his home and into his bed.

He nodded. Kissed her lips and her forehead. "I know."

"I can't promise I won't want to run," she said, slipping her hand up the back of his neck, fingers sifting through the soft hairs there.

"Just tell me," he murmured, kissing her again, soft and reassuring. "Tell me when you're scared and I'll tell you everything's going to be okay."

She smiled. "And maybe I'll believe you."

"Oh, you'll believe me," he said, grinning. "I'm very persuasive."

"Mmm," she hummed. "I know you are."

The elevator stopped at his floor and she pushed him through the opening doors. They made their way down the hallway, stumbling and awkward because he couldn't stop touching her.

When they reached his apartment, he pressed her against his door, trapped her there, his mouth hard and insistent against hers. She parted her lips to him, feeling the desperation that thrummed through his body and feeling an answering need rise inside her, pooling low in her stomach.

He lifted her arms and pinned them above her head. Wedged a thigh between her legs.

"We are not having sex in the hallway," she breathed out, her voice choked, but she couldn't help sinking down against him, rocking against his thigh.

"Then stop doing that," he said, kissing her neck and squeezing her waist as she rolled her hips again, gasping into his mouth at the friction.

"Stop encouraging me," she shot back.

He groaned against her skin and finally managed to stop touching her long enough to reach behind her and grab the door handle, twisting it open.

She stumbled backwards as it swung open and he caught her just before she went tumbling to the ground. He kicked the door shut with his foot and angled them towards his bedroom.

"Are we allowed to do this?" he asked, the question suddenly occurring to him as he followed her into his bedroom, watched her slip off her jacket and heels.

"Yeah," she said and began to unbutton her shirt. "The doctor gave me the okay."

"You sure?" he pressed.

She rolled her eyes. "Castle, _yes_. I'm fine. The baby's fine. Take off your shirt."

He grinned and slipped the garment off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. She watched in satisfaction as his belt and pants followed, then shed the rest of her clothes too.

He stepped towards her then, and his expression was softer, his eyes warm and dark as the earth. She lay back against his sheets and he followed her, crawling up her body and stopping, his face hovering over hers in the dim light of his bedroom.

"I'm sorry I left," she whispered, pressing her palm to his chest, sliding it up and around his neck so she could tug him towards her.

But he resisted her pull. "I heard you talked to Alexis."

Kate smiled. "She's wonderful. Practically a grown-up."

"But still a kid in some ways."

"We all are sometimes."

"Speaking of," he murmured, moving back down her body and shifting on his side so he could press a hand to her stomach. "You sure everything's okay?"

She smiled down at him, carded her fingers through his hair. "I'm sure."

He nodded. Kissed her belly button. "Love you," he told her stomach, then lifted himself over her again. "Love you, too," he said and kissed her forehead and each of her closed eyelids.

She drew in a shaky breath and lifted a hand to his face. Pressed it against his cheek, ran her fingers across his forehead and temple, curled them around his ear. "I love you, too," she breathed, feeling undone, feeling like she could fly apart from the way he was looking at her.

He smiled down at her, his expression gentle but laced with an sudden uncertainty that made her heart stutter in her chest. "What is it?" she asked.

He let out a long breath, let his body sink into hers. Felt all the dips and bends of her body and the way each one fit against him. "If I kiss you," he whispered, his breath ghosting across her lips, "if I make love to you and fall asleep next to you, will you be here in the morning?"

She swallowed hard, her chest aching at his words, the poetry and the pain. "Yes," she said.

He nodded. He believed her. "Okay."

She pulled him to her then and kissed him deeply. She wanted to change. She wanted to be better. She wanted so badly to be someone he could trust.

—

"Have you been eating?" he asked later, when she was sprawled out against the sheets beside him, the sweat cooling on her skin, making her glow.

She turned to look at him, but his eyes were focused on the smooth plane of her stomach, on his fingers as they traced lazy patterns across her skin. "I've been trying," she told him.

He hummed softly in sympathy. "Can you keep anything down?"

"Toast," she said. "Sometimes. Anything richer than that and I don't stand a chance."

He frowned, his brow furrowing with worry, and she found herself smiling gently at his concern, curling towards him. "It's okay, Castle," she breathed, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

He lifted dark eyes to hers. "Do you feel okay now?" he asked. "Are you hungry? Maybe I could—"

She silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time, humming in approval when he wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, tucked her under his body. "I don't want you to cook for me."

"But I think—"

"Castle," she murmured. "Stop worrying. Everything's going to be okay."

He smiled wryly at her words. "That's supposed to be my line."

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again when he kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. She made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat, pressing her face against his neck. He kissed her cheek, his hand curling around her waist, drifting upward to her ribcage, and she could tell he was still thinking about it, still dwelling, so she pulled back and caught his eye.

"Say it," she whispered.

His face was uncomprehending for a beat, then softened in understanding. He kissed her slowly, deliberately. "Everything's going to be okay," he breathed against her lips.

And she believed him.

—

_Another chapter and the end of the angst. I think many of you will be happy with that. _

_A lot of you were very frustrated with Kate, and I understand that, but I would say this: when you're not ready, you're not ready. Fear is a powerful thing and she wasn't trying to hurt Castle on purpose—just as she wasn't trying to hurt him on the show by pretending she didn't remember his profession of love._

_And as for Alexis: I know it's easy to blame her, but even the most-mature, well-adjusted child can have a hard time adjusting to a father falling in love and starting a family with someone other than her mother. And obviously Alexis figured it out pretty quickly in the end. :)_

_Just some stuff to think about. I've loved the feedback on these last few chapters! Keep it up! _


	14. Just

_Sorry for the longish wait. (I only add the ish because this isn't the longest I've made y'all wait by far.) College started up again so now I actually have to write stuff other than Castle fanfiction. Tragic, I know, but I'll try to keep the waits between chapters as short as possible._

—

She was missing something.

The longer she stared at the murder board, the more frustrated she got, because she knew it was _there_—that missing element, that final puzzle piece—even if she couldn't see it.

It was late. Castle had probably headed home after his meeting and was wondering if she was okay, but she was close, she was sure of it. She didn't want to blink, let alone call it a night.

She took a step forward, focusing in on the carefully plotted timeline, when the words suddenly began to tilt in her line of vision. She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the whiteboard for balance, breathing through the sudden dizziness.

She hadn't eaten all day and Castle hadn't been there to remind her. Shit. She couldn't get away with that anymore.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, rubbing lightly, feeling guilty for forgetting that she was eating for two.

The faint crackle of plastic had her opening her eyes and glancing to her left. Esposito was standing next to her, looking at her knowingly, a packet of peanut butter crackers held out towards her like an offering.

She took them wordlessly, smiling softly, knowing Castle had probably just texted the guys to make sure she ate something. So typical. She probably would've been annoyed if she wasn't on the verge of passing out.

She popped a cracker in her mouth and chewed, refocusing on the timeline. There'd been something she was beginning to notice right before her brain had gone fuzzy, something odd, out of place—

And then the puzzle pieces shifted and it was right there in front of her.

She turned to Esposito. "Get the ex-boyfriend in here again."

Esposito didn't even question it, just turned on his heel and headed back to his desk.

Beckett smiled, popped another cracker in her mouth, and texted Castle to say she'd be back late.

—

She got to his apartment after midnight, jittery with the adrenaline still buzzing through her veins after the arrest. It never got old—that sense of justice, the deep satisfaction of knowing there was one less bad guy out there.

She went straight into the bedroom and found him asleep, sprawled on top of the covers, a book open against his chest. She toed off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, lowering herself against his body, her thigh coming to rest between his legs, her cheek pillowed against his chest.

He stirred slightly, his arms coming up automatically to circle her waist. "Mmm, Kate?" he murmured, his voice slurred and sleepy.

She lifted her head and looked at him. Smiled when he blinked down at her, his gaze slowly clearing as he took in her face. "We got him," she told him.

He smiled. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"How'd you know?"

"Just guessing, actually. But _ugh_. Seriously? How cliché."

"They can't all be best-sellers, Castle."

He grinned and he just looked so adorably sleepy and rumpled that she couldn't help but lift her head and kiss him. He grunted appreciatively at the sudden press of her lips against his, his body coming alive, waking up fully as her hands began to wander.

"Kate, it's late," he breathed between kisses.

"Not tired."

"Did you eat?"

"Crackers."

"_Kate._"

"You can make me an omelet when we're done."

He huffed out a laugh at that. Bracketed her waist and spun her under his body, pinning her against the mattress. "When we're done?"

She grinned up at him and his breath caught because she was so _beautiful. _Her face was open and animated, all bright eyes and pink cheeks, but it was more than that, everything else, that made his chest ache and his heart stutter in his chest. She loved her job and she loved him and she was _having his baby_. It never got old, the fact that she was doing this with him, that they were doing this, _together_.

He leaned down and kissed her, smiling against her mouth. "You know," he said conversationally, shifting his lips to her jaw. "It might be better if you ate something now. You'll need the calories. For energy. And stamina."

She giggled, her body shaking under his, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Stamina?"

"Oh _yeah_," he mumbled. "I have plans. Scenarios I've been cooking up for Nikki and Rook. Some of them are pretty aerobic."

She laughed again, but he could tell she was actually intrigued, on the verge of being persuaded. She loved it when he tried out his _plotlines _on her.

"Okay," she finally decided. "Omelet first. Then sex."

He grinned and sat up quickly on the bed, pulling her with him. "It's gonna rock your world," he said.

She smirked, her eyebrow quirking upwards. "The omelet or the sex?"

—

"That was pretty aerobic," she commented.

"Told you you'd need the energy."

"You were right," she conceded.

He was sitting in his desk chair in his boxers and she was sitting in his lap clad in one of his old, extra soft t-shirts. It was almost two in the morning. Her fading adrenaline buzz along with post-sex sleepiness was making it hard to keep her eyes open, but she didn't want to go to bed yet.

She liked being with him like this. The easy intimacy. The closeness, the playfulness.

She sat back against his thighs, her back bumping into the edge of his desk, and watched him watch her, the smile blooming across his face, dimpling his cheeks, his hands warm against the tops of her legs.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked, running her palms across his chest, the touch more soothing than arousing, but he could feel himself begin to respond anyway, because she was here, _still here_, and she was beautiful and in his lap and he loved her.

"You," he admitted softly. He trailed his hands up her thighs to her waist, squeezing gently, beckoning. She couldn't help but lean into him, shift forward on his lap so that she could press a kiss to his lips.

"You're still here," he breathed and she had to smile, because he sounded awestruck and happy, and she was honestly kind of proud of the fact that she hadn't freaked out yet.

She kissed him firmly, let her hips sink into his. He groaned softly and she grinned, nipped at his bottom lip. "Told you I wasn't going anywhere, Castle," she pointed out, shifting her mouth to his jaw.

He hadn't shaved this morning and she kind of liked the scratch of the stubble against her lips. Maybe she'd ask him to keep it that way.

"You still good?"

"I'm good," she murmured. She meant it, wanted him to know, so she leaned back and met his eye. "I'm here."

"You are," he agreed and pulled her in for another kiss.

—

She awoke with a jolt, hot and uncomfortable, blood thrumming with sudden adrenaline. She sat up and listened to her heart crashing around in her chest, the silent bedroom, her pulse threading loudly in her ear. She gulped in air and kicked away the sheets, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. Trapped.

She glanced over at Castle, but he was still completely out, sprawled across the mattress, face smashed into the pillow. She turned away. Let out a long, steadying breath and slipped out the bed, heading into the living room. She felt herself gravitating towards the wide windows that overlooked the city, the moonlight spilling in across the floorboards. She pressed a palm to the cool glass and took another deep breath, wondering why she was suddenly so panicked, why now after almost a week staying at his place.

Oh. A week. One week. Had it really been that long?

She hadn't been to her apartment in seven days. Hadn't slept alone in seven days. Hadn't woken up alone in seven days. She was practically living with him. Granted, she was running out of clothes and her toiletries still only took up about an eighth of his medicine cabinet, but she'd lost track of time. Gotten comfortable. And it scared her, because she hadn't even questioned it. It had just _happened_, seemingly without her permission and that was not okay.

She jumped at the sound of footsteps, spun towards the sound. Castle emerged from the study and spotted her.

"Hey," he mumbled, voice still hoarse with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" She trailed off and looked away from him, back towards the windows, the edge of gray light along the skyline that meant the sun was getting ready to rise.

"Kate," he murmured, walking up behind her, and just her name on his lips, so gentle and understanding and reassuring, was enough to ease some of the tension in her chest, make her heart rate drop a few notches.

She shivered when he placed his hands on her waist and slid them forward to her stomach. "I think I need to go back to my place for a while."

"Okay," he said immediately, unquestioning.

She closed her eyes on a sigh. Let herself lean back against him, relax into the broad expanse of his chest. "I'm not running away," she said.

"I know," he said and kissed her neck, warm and gentle. "I get it. You've been here almost a week."

"Yeah, exactly," she agreed, and felt the tension drain from her body, rested her hands on top of his where they pressed into her lower stomach, over the small, rounded bump that was just beginning to show.

She turned in his arms and kissed him deeply, wanting him to know how grateful she was but not quite knowing how to say it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she felt herself lifting into the kiss, rocking onto her toes for a better angle as he parted her mouth with his tongue, nipped along her bottom lip.

"Back to bed?" she murmured, a little breathless.

He nodded wordlessly, scooped her up, and hurried back towards the study.

—

Kate let herself into her apartment and paused just inside the doorway, bag in hand. The place seemed darker somehow, uninviting. She knew it had only been a week, but it already felt unlived in—cold and quiet and a little dusty.

She flicked on a couple lights, but it didn't really help, so she turned them back off and went into her bedroom. It was late anyway, so she figured she'd just go to bed. She tossed her little bag of clothes into the closet and grabbed a pair of pajamas from her dresser.

She went through her usual, pre-bedtime routine, but it seemed lonely now without Castle. Seven days, she kept telling herself. Seven days couldn't change who she fundamentally was, and she was, fundamentally, a person who liked being alone. Wasn't she?

She thought of Castle. Of standing next to him at the sink, brushing her teeth, the way he'd always take her hand and lead her to the bed, let her settle in first before curling up behind her and pulling her close. She wasn't even a cuddly person normally, but she liked cuddling Castle, liked feeling close to him, the way he kissed her goodnight, the way he rested his hand over her stomach as they fell asleep.

She missed him. She'd seen him less than an hour ago at the precinct and yet she missed him. It was startling and a little unsettling and completely true. Maybe she didn't like being alone after all. Maybe she'd been lonely all her life and didn't even know it. But tonight wasn't about being alone, she reasoned. It was about getting space, about not being co-dependant.

She gave herself a determined nod in the mirror, put her toothbrush away, and headed to bed.

Then she called him.

He picked up almost immediately. "Kate?"

"Can you come over?" she blurted out before she even realized what she was saying. She pressed her hand over her mouth before she could say anything else completely idiotic and embarrassing and _god_ she was so mortified and he probably wouldn't even—

"Yes," he said, his voice warm and a little amused and a lot happy. "I'll be there soon."

"Okay," she breathed, then hung up.

—

He let himself into her apartment, squinting into the darkness of her entryway. He tossed his jacket on a nearby chair and headed into her bedroom. There weren't any lights on, but he could see the shape of her in the bed, turned away from him. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the shadow of her hair spread across her pillow.

"Kate?" he breathed, wondering if she was asleep. He took a step forward, then stopped. Had she changed her mind? Maybe she didn't want him here after all. "Do you…do you want me to go?"

Her head lifted at that. She turned her body, angling towards him. "Don't you dare," she said.

He smiled and walked the rest of the way to her bed, pausing when his thighs bumped into the mattress, looked down at her. She lifted her hand and hooked a finger into his belt loop. "I'm scared," she whispered.

He pressed his palm to her cheek, sifted his fingers through the long strands of her hair. "Of what?"

"I'm scared that I missed you. Scared that I called you. Scared that I'm not more scared of how much I want you." She closed her eyes and let out a self-deprecating huff of laughter. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Yes it does," he said.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I'm glad you're here," she said.

He smiled at that and leaned over her and kissed her—slowly at first, content for it not to lead anywhere, content to just kiss her in the darkness and fall asleep beside her, but then she was parting her mouth under his, sliding her tongue against his lips and he couldn't not give in to her, not give her exactly what she was asking for.

He pulled away long enough to slip out of his pants and shirt and then he was pushing her down into the mattress, groaning at the press of her thighs bracketing his hips, the way she arched against him, her flimsy night shirt pulled taught against her breasts.

He maneuvered his hand down between them and snuck it under the edge of her shirt, sliding his palm up her stomach to cup the sensitive flesh, already heavy with want. She gasped into his mouth when he ran a finger across her nipple, rising into his hand, her head falling back in surprised pleasure when he coupled his touch with a sudden thrust of his hips.

"Boxers," she practically growled once she caught her breath. "Castle, _off._"

He was too in love with her to do anything but listen. The boxers were gone in a moment and then he was sliding a hand under her back, lifting her hips to match his angle as he slid into her, as far as he could go, reveling in the way her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth opening on a soft gasp.

"You okay?" he murmured, mindful of her overly sensitive skin, the rapid-fire changes of her body.

"Yeah," she rasped, nodding quickly. "Yeah, I'm good."

He let out a breath, looming over her and into her. Kissed her softly, felt her wrapped around him. He took in the moment, let himself revel in it, her breathless pleasure and the press of her palms into his chest. The way her inner muscles rippled around him, the soft contours of her body as she lifted into him, wanting to be close, closer to him.

He felt full and overwhelmed, loving everything about her in that moment. Her hooded gaze, the scratch of her nails, the moan he drew from her parted lips when he rocked against her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes slipped shut. "I'm scared of needing you," she admitted suddenly.

He paused at her words and shifted onto his side, drew her tight against his chest. She draped a leg across his thigh, pressed in close, never breaking the connection.

He shifted against her, withdrawing and returning, reestablishing a languid pace that had her trembling around him, a slow rise that made her breath catch, her muscles contracting.

"It's just love, Kate," he breathed against her lips, an answer of sorts to her unspoken question. "What you're feeling is just love, the kind that lasts."

He kissed her deeply, then nudged his nose along her jaw, pressed his lips to her neck. She let out a gasping sob when he flicked his tongue across her pulse point, her hips rising to meet his quickening pace.

_Love_, she told herself and felt it in the way he held her, the way he watched her and moved with her.

"Just love," she breathed into his ear, clinging to him as she began to come apart around him. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"Nothing to be afraid of," he agreed and then her back was bowing, her muscles tensing and releasing around him.

He stilled inside her, wanting to draw it out, not wanting any of it to be over, but she was pulling him along with her, tugging him under, and he couldn't resist, came apart too a moment later.

He rolled onto his back and she followed, curling into his side, her cheek resting against his chest.

"I love you," she said. The words were deliberate, but not forced. No matter how mixed up she was, no matter how scared she got, it had never stopped being true.

"I love you, too," he said, easy and lilting, a quietly stated fact. "Everything's going to be okay."

—

_I hope you liked it! Please review!_


	15. Wonder

_Here we go. Another chapter. This one is much, much more fluffy and light. I can't even think about writing angst with all the adorableness happening on the show right now._

—

For once, he woke up before her. He had a meeting at Black Pawn that had been scheduled a long time ago and was kind of set in stone. He would've rescheduled it otherwise. It was her day off and he kind of hated the fact that he would be in a meeting for half of it. He wanted to wake up with her, make her breakfast, go for a walk or maybe go back to bed…

He sighed, knowing he needed to get up, shower, get dressed, but he let himself linger for a moment. He sank back into the pillow, took a moment to study her face, slack with sleep. She was lying on her side facing him, her face half-hidden, smashed into the pillow, her hair falling across her forehead. He reached out and brushed it back, let his finger trail against her cheek. She stirred at his touch, pursed her lips, blinked her eyes open and looked at him.

"Hey," she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," he said, sliding closer.

"Meeting?" she asked, apparently not awake enough to form full sentences.

He smiled. "Yeah. I'm going. Meet me later?"

She nodded. "Lunch?"

"Sounds good."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead. She curled into him, sliding her palm up his chest. "Wish you didn't have to go," she mumbled.

"Me too," he agreed. He kissed her softly, then forced himself to roll away and off the bed. "I'll see you soon."

—

She saw him walking down the path towards her and stood from the park bench to meet him. He watched her walk towards him and couldn't help but grin. She was wearing jeans and a form-fitting, v-neck t-shirt that showed off her slightly rounded stomach—a new development that took his breath away every time he looked at her. Anyone else just glancing at her would probably never guess, but he couldn't help but notice and it filled him with a ridiculous kind of joy to see the now-visible evidence of their baby.

"Hey," she said when she reached him.

He just grinned and hooked a finger through her belt loop, tugged her closer. He brushed his hand across her stomach, earning soft, indulgent smile from her, before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against his body.

"You can kind of tell," he said, kissing her firmly, feeling giddy with it, everything—the moment, her, the pure, unadulterated joy of it all.

She huffed against his lips. "It just looks like I need to lay off the fried food."

He kissed her again. "You look beautiful."

"Talk to me in a few more months."

She was joking, but it kind of bugged him that she didn't seem to realize how amazing it was, how it took his breath away to see the ways her body was changing as their child grew inside her.

"Kate," he murmured, holding her firmly against his body, hoping she would read the sincerity in his voice. "You have never been more beautiful to me."

Her face softened, her lips curling upwards, her eyes bright with affection. She leaned into him and brushed her mouth across his. "Thank you, Rick," she breathed.

He smiled then, satisfied. "You're welcome. Now. Can we eat? I'm starving."

—

She said she was craving pancakes so they found a diner that served breakfast all day, then walked the ten blocks to his apartment.

He held her hand as they went, sneaking glances at her every few steps, admiring the way the sunlight fell across her face, softening the sharp angle of her jaw, the arch of her cheekbones.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said after a couple blocks.

"Like what?"

"Like you love me," she said, pursing her lips as she said it, casting a sideways, under-the-lashes look his way.

He raised his eyebrows at her, a little indignant. "I don't think I have any other look."

She rolled her eyes at that, but he could tell she was happy. He was glad for it. Not too long ago those words would've had her running in the other direction. "Just. I don't know. Maybe take it down a notch. You're going to make me blush."

"I love it when you blush."

She laughed at that, at him, grinning. God, she was beautiful. "Seriously, Castle."

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "I can't help it."

Her grin softened around the edges and he felt his heart stutter in his chest because she was looking at him like she adored him, like she could fly apart from how much she loved him and he didn't think he would ever get used it.

"I know," she said, her voice soft.

She tugged on their joined hands and he paused on the sidewalk a couple steps in front of her. He waited on her, waited to see what she would do, and was pleasantly surprised when she rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, a palm pressed to his chest for balance.

When she pulled away, she rolled her eyes, and he knew it was all over his face, had to be—how much he loved her. He couldn't keep it contained. Never could. She'd just have to deal.

He reached out and curled a hand around her hip, leaning in close again. "I love you, Kate," he breathed across her lips, before kissing her gently. "And I don't care who knows it. I want everyone to know it."

She hummed at his words, parted her lips, and he slipped his tongue inside, took his time, slanting his mouth across hers until he heard her breath snag in her chest. He pulled back and she leaned into him, resting her head under his chin, her breath escaping her on a long sigh.

"Mm," she hummed. She felt content and not at all afraid. It might come later. There might be something that set her off again, but it wasn't this. "Love you, too."

—

The next day, Castle walked into the bullpen after a coffee run and stopped in his tracks. Kate was sitting at her desk holding a baby. A baby.

The little guy couldn't have been more than a few months old. He was sitting on Kate's knees, facing forward, his mouth open in a look of pure delight as Kate held a purple elephant in front of him. He reached for it with uncoordinated, chubby hands and let out a high-pitched giggle when he managed to swat it.

Kate held it against his chest as he batted at it, bouncing a little in her lap. Her smile was wide and uninhibited as she watched him, one palm spread across his belly to keep him in place, the other holding the elephant in his line of vision.

She was beautiful. She was a natural. He couldn't breathe.

He wanted to kiss her.

He blinked a couple times, managed to unhinge his legs and walk over to her. She looked up at him when he set her coffee on his desk. "Thanks," she said, a little distracted.

"You're welcome," he said, feeling his heart lift at the pleasure on her face, the wonder in her eyes. "Who's the little guy?"

"This is _Nathan_," she cooed, bending over and glancing at the baby's face, who was taking everything in around him with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned look.

Kate tapped him on the nose, laughing softly when he let out a delighted giggle, before meeting Castle's eye. "He's Ryan's nephew. I offered to watch him while Ryan grabbed something out of the evidence room."

"Ryan is babysitting at the precinct?" Castle asked, a little incredulous.

Kate nodded. "His sister called last minute and begged him to take Nathan for the afternoon. Some kind of emergency."

She shrugged it off and leaned over again, pressed a quick kiss to the top of Nathan's head, lifting her knees so that he bounced in her lap, his feet digging into her thighs.

Castle couldn't help but grin as he watched her. "It suits you," he murmured.

She looked up at him. "What does?"

"Motherhood."

—

Ryan came back a few minutes later to reclaim his nephew. Kate handed him over and told Ryan to take the rest of the day off, an offer which he gladly accepted.

Kate watched him head over to the elevator with the baby in his arms, a soft, slightly wistful expression in her eyes. Castle couldn't help but notice the way her hand drifted to her stomach automatically, a brief press, an unconscious habit, before she reached out to grip the edge of her desk and pull her chair closer.

He tried to sit still and be quiet, to let her work, but his chest was completely swamped with all these ridiculously sentimental feelings and he knew he wouldn't be able to sit next to her for the next couple hours without touching her.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked.

She glanced up at him from her paperwork. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"Not here," he murmured.

Her brow furrowed. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I just…I want to…be with you for a second."

"Castle, I'm not having sex with you in the supply closet."

"I don't mean sex, Kate, jeez. Get your mind out of the gutter."

She rolled her eyes at him, but stood up from her desk, following him as he lead them away from the bullpen. He had actually been planning on going to the supply closet, but decided on a conference room instead that was out of the way from prying eyes.

She went in first and he pulled the door shut behind them, turning to face her. "Okay, Castle. You got me alone. Now what's up?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but found himself embarrassingly choked up. Oh jeez. He was pathetic. On the verge of tears after seeing her hold someone else's kid. What was he going to do the first time he saw her with their own baby?

She seemed to catch on to the emotion in his face, because she stepped towards him, curled her fingers around the lapel of his jack. "I know," she said softly. "I felt it too."

"Yeah?" he said, sounding a little breathless. At least he wasn't crying. Yet.

"It's…amazing," she said. He could see tears shining in her eyes, which made him feel a little better about the ones burning behind his. "Sometimes I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"I know," he said, reaching up to press his palm to her cheek, his fingers feathering along her jaw. "I know."

He leaned towards her then and she tilted her head up into his kiss. She slipped her hands under his jacket, wrapped her arms around her waist, sighed against his lips when he rested his hands at her waist, his thumbs brushing across the swell of her lower stomach.

Oh god. They were having a baby together. Fourteen weeks in and it still didn't feel real. It would hit her sometimes and she would just have to stop and dwell in it for a second, because it was almost unbelievable.

Yes, she got scared sometimes, but she was better. Was getting better. And she was happy more than she was scared, and that had to matter for something, didn't it?

"I'm happy," she murmured. She'd promised to tell him when she got scared, but she wanted him to know this too.

He grinned. "Me too."

—

_The last chapter was about the fact that Kate still has a long way to go before she completely escapes all her demons and I wanted this chapter to highlight the fact that she's come a long way, a remarkably long way, actually, in a very short period of time._

_Keep in mind the fact that about three months ago, her relationship with Castle was basically the equivalent of friends with benefits, because that was all she could handle, and now they're in a committed, loving relationship with a baby on the way. That's a pretty quick turn around, but if anyone can do it, it's Beckett, because she's basically badass. _

_So anyway. That's the reasoning behind the fluff. I hope you guys enjoyed it, because I totally love writing this shit, so there's a lot more where it came from. :) _


	16. Want

Beckett lay on her back in bed staring up at the ceiling. Castle lay on his stomach beside her, face smashed into the pillow, contented snores emanating from his half-open mouth.

She couldn't sleep. Her body was buzzing and awake and _wanting_.

She turned her head to the side and looked at him. She knew she should let him sleep. He was exhausted. He'd been in meetings all day yesterday and then insisted on waking up with her at three in the morning when a body dropped. The case had been a quick one, open and shut, so she'd gone back home to bed and he'd slept a couple hours before getting up to write.

He needed sleep. He did. But—

She shook her head, turning away from him, and ran a hand through her hair. She didn't know what was wrong with her. All it took was a glance, a whiff of his cologne, a brush of his fingers to set her body on edge.

With all the meetings and murders she hadn't gotten any sort of release for almost a week and now she practically _ached _with how much she wanted him.

He snuffled in his sleep, flipping over onto his back, exposing the smooth plane of his chest to her view, broad and muscular and strong.

She swallowed thickly and let her hand trail down between her legs from where it rested on her stomach. She slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, brushing lightly across her clit, and had to clamp her mouth shut to keep in the moan that rose, unbidden, in her throat.

She imagined that her hands were his. Pictured his thick fingers parting her folds, circling her clit, before pressing into her slowly, torturously, curling just right to catch the spot that made her back arch.

She squirmed against the sheets, feeling the warmth low in her stomach, that razor's edge of pleasure that was almost painful. She circled her fingers up and around, couldn't quite hold in the soft whimper that caught in her throat when she caught just the right spot, and then suddenly the mattress dipped beside her and he was pressing close, his hand coming to rest over hers.

"Hey," he murmured, pressing his mouth to her temple. "Let me."

He gripped her wrist lightly, stilling her movements, before replacing her fingers with his.

"_Oh_," she moaned, her eyes slipping shut. Her hips arched off the bed. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.

She kissed him deeply, her tongue sliding against his. "Castle, I need—"

"I know," he breathed.

He kissed her again, softer this time, before slipping one finger inside her. She groaned quietly and lifted into his touch. "More," she whispered. "Castle, _please_."

He obliged quickly, adding a second finger, curling them just right and oh oh _oh_—

She came with a sharp cry, bowing into his body, her mouth hard and firm against his. But she barely had time to catch her breath before he was rising above her and settling between her parted legs.

She moaned loudly, pressing her head back into the pillow, as he dragged his length along her folds, bumping teasingly against her already sensitive clit. She forced her eyes open and met his gaze, his eyes dark and intent on her face.

She lifted hooked her leg around his waist, pulling him closer, and he sank against her, his mouth meeting hers at the same moment that he pressed into her. She lifted into him, craving the press of his chest against hers, craving _him—_more than she could ever remember.

"I love you," she gasped, feeling a strange sense of urgency rise inside of her

She loved him. She did. And they were having a baby together and—

He kissed her hard, pulling her back from her thoughts. He stilled over her, deep inside her, his gaze so warm and full. He was looking at her like she was perfect, like he adored her. "Kate," he whispered, ghosting his lips across her cheek. He kissed her forehead and her cheek. "_Kate_. I love you, too."

She swallowed thickly, feeling her eyes burn with sudden tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, felt a drop trail down her cheek, and then his lips, warm and soft, kissing the wetness away.

And then he began to move again and she was lost, gone in the best way. She could've flown apart from how in love she was.

—

It was her day off, so they wandered around the city, ended up downtown in an old bookstore. It was a big, sprawling place, with hallways leading into hallways, piles of books teetering in corners.

They started near the front, in the poetry section. He picked up a worn edition of Walt Whitman and began flipping through it, leaning against a nearby bookcase.

She picked up Emily Dickson but couldn't really concentrate. She kept glancing over to where he was standing, his face intent, his brow slightly furrowed. He turned a page and the delicate flick of his wrist, the ripple of his bicep, made her warm. She could feel the color rise in her cheeks as she watched him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

She returned Dickinson to its place in the stacks and walked over to him, leaning close and peering over his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, curling an arm behind him and hooking a finger in the hip pocket of her dress.

"_I sing the body electric_," she whispered into his ear, felt him shiver. "_The armies of those I love engirth me; and I engirth them_."

He turned to meet her gaze, his blue eyes darkening like a storm rolling into blue skies. "You know Whitman?"

She cocked an eyebrow, giving him a pursed-lip smile. Why did he doubt her anymore?

"_This is the female form,_" she murmured, leaning into him when he splayed a possessive hand at her waist, his thumb brushing across the swell of her stomach. "_A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot; it attracts with fierce undeniable attraction_."

"Fuck," he groaned, tugging her closer, his breath ghosting across her lips. Always a sucker for literary foreplay.

She closed her eyes on a sigh, her body thrumming, _singing_, for him. "C'mere," he said quietly, taking her hand and leading her away from the front room.

They followed the maze of narrow hallways until they reached the back of the store, a disheveled room filled with boxes of unsorted books.

He pressed her against one of the shelves, his mouth landing hard on hers. "_Love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching_," he recited between kisses. "_Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice_."

His voice was low and gruff and made her shiver. She opened her mouth underneath his and he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking gently. She moaned softly, felt his body tighten in response, his hands slipping beneath her thighs to hitch her up against the shelf.

Books rattled beside her head as she locked her legs around his waist, whimpering at the sudden pressure between her thighs. "_Bridegroom night of love,_" he breathed into her mouth, one hand slipping underneath the hem of her dress, his palm warm against her skin, fingers spreading against her skin.

"_Castle_," she whined as he rocked into her, his thumb slipping under the edge of her panties.

He quieted her with a kiss, deep and searching, his tongue slipping between her lips to taste, his teeth nipping gently. She squeezed her legs at his waist and he shifted forward, settling firmly in the v of her legs.

"_Working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn_," he said. His voice had gone gruff. She was impressed—she was nowhere close to coherent, forget reciting Whitman. He lifted his hips into hers, somehow catching just the right spot to make her back arch, the air leaving her lungs on a silent cry.

She carded her fingers through the hair at his nape, pressing his head forward to her chest. He pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat, the angle of her collarbone, the top of one breast, then the other.

Then he slipped his hand underneath her panties, his thumb pressing against her clit. "Oh," she sighed, feeling the sharp heat in her lower stomach.

He lifted his head and kissed her softly, lips ghosting across hers. "_Undulating into the willing and yielding day_," he continued, the words erotic and tender all at once.

She opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes were dark and reverent, his body sturdy against hers, his thumb circling and circling and—

She gave a sharp cry, her back bowing. He pressed impossibly closer, his mouth at her ear, whispering as her body trembled against him in release: "_Lost_ _in the cleave of the clasping and sweet flesh'd day_."

—

After the bookstore, they wandered down the street, heading in no particular direction, hands clasped loosely between them.

She was just about to suggest finding a place to eat when he stopped suddenly, pulling her out of the stream of foot traffic towards a store.

"Want to go in?" he asked, his face alight with boyish excitement.

She turned, looking up at the storefront that had snagged his attention and felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach that she couldn't really explain. "Babies 'R' Us," she recited quietly.

"C'mon," he encouraged, squeezing her hand and tugging her towards the door. "Let's just take a quick look."

She forced a smile and nodded, following him inside the little boutique. They were immediately bombarded with all things baby—onesies and cribs, stuffed animals and diapers. It was overwhelming.

It suddenly slammed into her that for all her emotional processing, she hadn't spent more than a few minutes considering all of the things that had to get done in the next few months. Babies required more than just love—they needed _supplies_.

She didn't know where to begin, finding it impossible to move more than a few steps past the entryway. Castle, on the other hand, was having a blast. He was currently perusing a rack of onesies, eyeing one with the Yankees logo stitched to the front.

She closed her eyes briefly, sucked in a deep breath, tried to quell the rising anxiety she felt tightening in her chest.

"Kate, look at this!"

She startled slightly at his words. Looked over to see him holding up a onesie featuring the NYPD logo. Her lips lifted slightly in what she hoped passed for a smile as he headed over to where she was standing.

Her fingers were cold as she took the onesie he offered her. She ran her thumb across the lettering, her throat tight. She felt suddenly inadequate in the face of…everything. She didn't have a crib, hadn't painted the nursery. She didn't even know where the nursery would _go _because she wasn't living with the father of her child.

She closed her fingers around the onesie, pressed her eyes shut, felt a rogue tear slip down her cheek. Castle noticed, of course, moving closer immediately.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, rested a warm hand at her waist. "Kate, what's wrong?"

"I just…" She paused and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I'm just a little…overwhelmed."

His face softened immediately. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, reaching down and pressing his palm against her stomach. The touch was soothing, grounding, reminded her that she wasn't in this alone.

They might not be living together, but Castle was there, with her. She didn't doubt that. "One step at a time, okay?" he told her.

She nodded, leaned forward and tucked herself against him, face pressed into his neck, arms folded between them. She was still gripping the NYPD onesie. "One step at a time."

—

_I'm sorry it's been soooo long since my last update. When my life gets crazy, my fanfiction, unfortunately, is usually the thing that suffers. Thank you for your patience! I'm also sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual. I just wanted to get something posted, but I'll try to make the next installment a little longer. _


	17. Move

She was sitting at her desk the first time she felt it—a quick fluttering, a moth batting its wings, just below her ribs. Her soft gasp was lost in the commotion of the bullpen—shuffling papers, quick footsteps, the click of fingers on a keyboard.

Beckett pushed away from her desk slightly, curling in on herself. She closed her eyes and the flurried movement around her faded into a dull roar. She pressed her palm to her stomach, focused, waited—

There it was again. A faint brush stroke, a shudder of a bird's wings. Delicate, subtle— magic.

She grinned, her lips pulling taut against her teeth, the joy threatening to burst out of her. She remembered that first appointment, the one she almost hadn't invited Castle to. She'd still been so unsure of herself and of him, so unsure of the life growing inside her.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

There was a baby inside her. _A baby_. And maybe it would have Castle's blue eyes and her chestnut hair and his crooked smile. Maybe it would have the best of both of them.

—

When Castle emerged from the break room and saw her pushed back from her desk, her body hunched in on itself, his heart stilled.

He lurched towards her on heavy feet, already reaching for his phone, thumb poised to dial 911. He glanced around the bustling bullpen in disbelief. Dozens of cops swirled around Beckett's desk, every one of them seemingly oblivious to the pregnant detective.

He reached her chair and crouched down in front of her. "Kate, are you—"

The words died in his mouth when she lifted her head and looked at him. Her smile was soft and assured, her eyes bright with tears, blazing with love—the deep kind. The mother kind. And there was some for him too. She was radiating happiness, looking at him like she adored everything about him.

"Kate?" he questioned, stunned into near-silence by the look on her face, the beautiful twist of her smile.

"I felt it," she breathed. "I felt the baby move."

"You did?"

She nodded. His grin matched hers.

She stood from her chair and reached for his hand, tugging him back into the break room and pulling the door shut behind them. He immediately crowded close, his hands bracketing her waist, nudged her backwards towards the wall.

"What was it like?" he asked softly, his lips landing soft on her cheek, dipping down to the line of her jaw.

"Amazing," she breathed. "I can't even describe it."

"Try," he murmured, half-pleading. He so wanted to know what it was like, wanted to understand the magic that was thrumming through her body.

"It's like a bird's wings. Butterflies in my stomach."

He smiled against her skin, his nose pressed into her neck. He felt so full, but didn't have any words. He just loved her and he wanted to stay in this pure, quiet moment forever.

He pressed closer to her, his palm brushing across her stomach before slipping to the small of her back, and pulling her hips into his. She lifted her hands to his face and kissed him.

Her mouth was warm and wet and deep, tugged at something in the pit of his stomach, made his arms tighten around her and the desire turn suddenly sharp.

He wanted her. Right here in the middle of the break room, in the middle of everything—he wanted her.

He parted the seam of her lips with his tongue and delved deep, let her familiar taste wash through him until he felt her all around him. She lifted into him, hooked her arms around his neck. He answered her soft moan with a groan that rumbled deep in chest.

She wanted him closer.

She nudged him backwards and he went, sitting down on the coffee table and pulling her with him. She settled into his lap, straddled his thighs, her knees pressed tight against his hips.

"Move in with me," he breathed into her mouth.

"What?" she whispered, breathless and distracted. She pressed her body down into his, hips rolling against his and he couldn't help but groan at the sudden friction.

"Move in with me," he said again once he caught his breath.

This time she went still against him. She pulled away from him and met his eye, regarding him with an unreadable gaze.

"Don't freak out."

She swallowed thickly. "I'm not."

He watched her cautiously, waited on her. She shifted backwards on his lap, pressed her palms to the center of his chest, her fingers stroking softly, almost thoughtfully.

She wasn't saying _yes_, but at least she wasn't saying _no,_ either.

"Haven't you thought about it?"

Her answer was immediate: "Yes."

He paused, let his gaze trip over the features of her face, practically glowing in the soft, afternoon light. "And?"

She hesitated, her body canting towards his slightly. "And I—"

"Hey, Beckett, I—woah!"

Beckett leapt away from Castle, tumbling off his lap and nearly slamming into the doorframe. Ryan caught her by the arm just in time, pulling her back onto two feet.

Castle stood as well, self-consciously adjusting his shirt, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

Ryan looked between the two of them, a smirk twisting at the corners of his mouth. "So," he said conversationally. "What's up?"

"Well, I—we—" Castle closed his mouth, regretting ever having opened it.

Beckett rolled her eyes like he was helpless. "I felt the baby move," she offered, knowing that would thoroughly distract him.

Ryan's eyes widened. "Really?" he practically squealed.

Beckett nodded indulgently, sharing a knowing look with Castle that eased something in his chest. Whatever her answer to his question—they would be alright.

—

She was quiet on the drive back to his apartment and he didn't probe her for information, didn't question her when she parked the car when they were still twenty blocks from the apartment and got out.

He simply followed her as she walked down the sidewalk a ways before turning onto a path that led through a little park. She didn't offer him anything, but she walked close to him and didn't pull away when he reached for her hand.

"I don't want to give up my apartment right away," she said after a long silence.

He nodded. "Okay."

She squeezed his hand gratefully and turned towards him, halting their slow movement along the path. "So this isn't a big deal, right?" she said, her tone almost shy. It was her way of asking if everything would be alright. She wanted him to tell her it would be.

She dropped her eyes to the ground, toeing the gravel with the tip of her shoe. The gesture was so un-Beckett like that it made him grin. He loved her for her fierceness, but couldn't help the surge of affection that washed through him on those rare occasions that she let her guard down, let him know that she was unsure of herself.

"Right," he agreed. "No big deal."

She lifted her eyes back to his. "Everything's going to be alright," he promised.

She nodded, grinned at him and he grinned back and then they were just smiling goofily at each other in the middle of a park.

"C'mere," he murmured, his voice a little gruff.

She let him pull her into his body, relaxing against him almost immediately, letting the sturdy planes of his body absorb the softer curves of hers. She kissed him soft and quick and sweet.

"Love you," she whispered.

He smiled. "Love you, too."


	18. Daughter

"You don't have to do this," Castle murmured, his hands moving in slow circles at her lower back.

Kate sighed and leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest, breathing in deep the scent of his fabric softener and cologne, faint traces of that after-shave she liked so much. She lifted her head and bumped her nose against his jaw line, catching another whiff.

"You sniffing me, Beckett?" he asked, a low chuckle in his voice.

"Yes," she said, entirely unabashedly, though her cheeks did tinge slightly pink at the admission. He loved when she startled herself like that, when she realized she was acting like a sap and realized she didn't mind.

"And, yes, I do have to do this," she told him, answering his earlier question. "I want to."

He made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat, a low hum that rumbled in his chest. She grinned and pressed her lips to the underside of his chin, trailing them up to the corner of his mouth, her tongue flicking out briefly to taste, before she pulled back.

But he followed her, bowing his head to catch her lips in a kiss that took her by surprise with its intensity, knocked her off balance, making her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, a helpless sound of want rising in her throat.

She rose up on her toes, humming at the full press of his body against hers, feeling that all-too-familiar thrum of want resound in her bones, making her blood sing. But then he softened and the kiss turned gentle. He eased away from her slightly, quieting that edge of need with feather light kisses to her pink lips.

"Hmm," he hummed quietly, looking at her with near-reverence in his blue eyes. "I love you."

"I know," she said, grinning playfully at him, making him growl and bow his head to nip at her earlobe.

"You know," he said conversationally, his voice a low husk at her ear, "instead of talking to my daughter, you could accompany me to the bedroom."

"Oh, is that so?" she replied, letting him curl his arms around her waist, pull her tight against him.

"That is so," he said, sucking lightly at her neck.

She bit her lip to keep in the moan that rose, unbidden, in her throat. "_Castle_," she said, going for stern, but sounding entirely too breathless instead—completely undone.

"Yes?" he murmured. He pulled back and leveled her with a look that knocked her sideways all over again. This man. This goofy, infuriating, wonderful man.

She felt her lips soften into a gentle smile, knowing that she was probably gazing at him like a complete fool and not really caring. "Later," she promised, reveling in the smoky blue of his eyes as they dipped to the line of her lips, the curve of her breasts beneath the tight-fitting t-shirt she was wearing, before rising to meet her gaze once again.

"Later."

—

Kate walked down the hallway towards Alexis' room, her stomach fluttering nervously. And then she felt a fluttering of a different kind—the now familiar quickening that never failed to make her smile. "Wish me luck, baby," she murmured, smoothing her palm across the curve of her belly.

She lifted her hand and knocked lightly on the door. "Alexis?" she called softly.

There was a slight rustling on the other side of the door, the sound of sheets being rearranged before the girl's voice rang out. "Come in!" she called.

Kate pushed the door open slowly. Alexis looked up from the book she was reading and startled slightly when she saw Kate standing uncertainly in her doorway. "Oh," she said quietly, closing her book and putting it down. "I, uh, thought you were my dad."

Kate rested her hand on the doorframe, unsure of what to say. "Can I come in?" she finally asked.

Alexis nodded, sitting up a little straighter in her bed. Kate walked in, pausing again by the girl's bed. "You can sit," Alexis offered after a slightly awkward beat of silence.

Kate perched at the foot of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. She had no idea where to begin. "So," she began.

"You're moving in."

Kate snapped her gaze up to the redhead's. "I, um…well…"

Alexis smiled good-naturedly, her dimples flashing. "I overheard you and my dad talking this morning."

"Oh." Kate blinked. "How do you…feel about that?" she asked vaguely, her interrogation training kicking in. _No leading questions._

Alexis smiled, this time softer, with a sweetness that had rarely been directed at Kate. "Kate," she said softly. "I think it's great. I'm really happy for you guys."

"I won't hurt him," Kate said earnestly, feeling a strange need to prove herself. She didn't know if it was for her sake or Alexis'.

Alexis nodded, looking momentarily chagrined. "I believe you. I'm sorry I was so awful before. I was just worried about him, but…" She paused. "To be honest I've always kind of…rooted for you guys to get together."

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah, I…I really like you." Alexis dropped her gaze to her bedspread, blushing slightly. "Between my dad and Gram, I have enough theatrics in my life. I liked how…different you were. Quiet. Careful."

Kate felt her chest ache at the words, shocked to learn that Alexis had been paying such close attention. Like father like daughter.

"Alexis, you know you can always come to me, right?" She thought of the girl's mother, alive but almost just as absent as her own mother. She and Castle's daughter had a few things in common.

Alexis nodded. "I know. Thank you."

Kate reached out impulsively and snagged the girl's hand in her own. "I'm glad you don't hate me."

Alexis huffed out a laugh, grinning again. "Not even close."

—

"I told you," Castle said when Kate had finished telling him the conversation she'd had with his daughter.

Kate scoffed. "You so did not."

"I did!"

"I think your exact words were _I'm sure she doesn't hat you._ Not exactly confidence inspiring."

Castle huffed at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and tugging her towards him so that she was snuggled into his side on the couch. "So," he said, his fingers tapping out a tune on her shoulder, "when do you want to move in? I think, like, now is probably a good time."

"Oh, do you?" she murmured, her tone soft and teasing and knowing.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

"It's Sunday," she said.

"I'm sure God wouldn't be opposed to moving a few boxes."

"And it's getting late."

"All the more reason to get started quickly."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And I had other activities in mind."

She curled into his side, sliding her palm up his chest to play with the top button of his shirt. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips and back again. "No retort?" she murmured. "Interesting."

"I, uh…W-what activities did you have in mind?" he stammered, watching with rapt attention as she swung her knee over his legs, settling firmly in his lap.

Her hair fell in an auburn curtain around her face, her eyes bright and playful. "All kinds," she husked, biting her lip and leaning close, dragging her fingers over his shoulders and into his hair, massaging his scalp lightly.

He groaned happily at the sensation, trailing his hands along the curve of her waist, before sliding them to her lower back and tugging her hips into his.

She groaned softly and bit her lip again, her eyes slipping shut at the sudden bombardment of sensation. The movement drew his gaze to her mouth immediately and once he was looking, he couldn't help but lean forward and catch her mouth with his. She groaned again, the sound traveling straight to his blood, and he reached up to cradle the back of her head with his palm, deepening the kiss.

She gave into his pull briefly, a flash of teeth and tongue, before leaning back slightly, smiling at his whine of protest. "Maybe we should move this into the bedr—"

"Oh, crap!"

Castle turned his head so quickly in the direction of his daughter's voice that Kate didn't have a chance to dodge the motion. "Ow!" she yelped when his skull knocked against her chin.

"Oh gosh, guys, I'm sorry," Alexis apologized hastily, already retreating back up the stairs.

"No, Alexis, it's fine," Kate called, rubbing her fingers along her already-sore jaw. "Come back down."

Alexis glanced from her dad back to Kate. "You sure?"

"Of course, pumpkin, c'mere." Castle waved her over before returning his attention to Kate, who was still in his lap and scowling at him.

"I think you broke my jaw."

"Drama queen," he murmured.

"Look who's talking," she grumbled.

He smiled. "Let me kiss it and make it better," he said softly, leaning forward and brushing his lips along the line of her jaw.

She grinned at him, then regretted it when her jaw ached in protest. "Clumsy man."

"Here, try this."

Kate glanced up to see Alexis offering her a bag of frozen peas. "Thank you," she said, taking the bag and pressing it to her jaw.

"Come sit," she invited the girl, taking the opportunity to slide off of Castle's lap and settle back against the couch cushions.

Alexis quickly rounded the couch and sat down beside Kate. "Hey, dad," she said, leaning forward to catch Castle's eye. "It's Sunday."

Castle's eyes lit up, a boyish grin stretching across his face. "Oh man, I almost forgot!"

"Uh, what's so special about Sunday?" Kate wondered aloud, looking between the two Castles in confusion.

Alexis leaned back in her seat again, redirecting her attention to Kate. "Every Sunday me and my dad choose a random season of the Bachelorette and marathon it."

Kate raised her eyebrows, shooting a _Why am I not surprised?_ look Castle's way. "Interesting."

Castle shrugged, not looking embarrassed in the slightest.

"Wanna join?" Alexis asked.

Kate smiled. "Why not?"

—

Four hours and three episodes later, Castle was the only one still awake. Kate had fallen asleep against his shoulder around episode two and Alexis had followed suit shortly after, her head resting in Kate's lap.

It filled his heart with near-unbearable happiness to see his two girls together like this—not that he'd ever let either one of them know he thought of them that way. His girls. He meant it in a tender way, not a patronizing way, but he was almost positive neither Alexis nor Kate would see it like that. Better to play it safe.

He reached up with his free hand and brushed the hair out of Kate's eyes, before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead.

Her eyelids fluttered, awareness dawning on her slowly. "Hey," she whispered, her voice scratchy from her nap.

"Heya back," he said, smiling down at her and she must of seen all that adoration in his eyes because the corners of her lips curled into a beautiful smile, her eyes bright with green and gold in the evening light.

Her smile only widened when she looked down at Alexis, still sound asleep in her lap. She reached out and sifted her fingers through the long red hair, her fingertips resting briefly on the girl's cheek before withdrawing.

"I really thought she didn't like me," she said wonderingly.

Castle shrugged. "She's different from me. She's more careful with her heart."

Kate nodded in understanding. "She had to be sure of me first."

"Exactly," Castle agreed. "Once you get past that wall, though, you're in."

She glanced up at him, understanding flashing in her eyes. "Like me."

He smiled. Kissed her softly. "Like you."


End file.
